Another Vader Redemption Fic
by Kelaria
Summary: Anakin saves himself from the Dark Side in the most ridiculous way imaginable...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Obi-Wan entered the cantina in Mos Eisley, scanning the bar for customers who might possibly have news from Coruscant. It had been five months since he had brought Luke to Tatooine after the fall of the Republic, and he had made a habit of visiting Mos Eisley once a week for supplies and whatever information he could gather.

Seeing a man sitting alone at the bar, Obi-Wan joined him, hoping that he might have dealings on the Interior and news of the Empire. "Hello," he said politely, taking a seat and ordering a drink from the bartender.

"Hello," the man replied, nodding. "You a local?" he asked, with a curious glance at Obi-Wan's dusty boots and cloak.

"Yes," Obi-Wan nodded, glancing ruefully at his clothing. "Is it that obvious?" he laughed good-naturedly, putting the man at ease. "What brings you to this bustling metropolis?" he joked.

The man laughed. "The beer, of course," he said cheerfully, raising his mug in approval as the bartender brought Obi-Wan's drink. It was the reply Obi-Wan had hoped for; in his experience, the less a man boasted of his career status and dealings with the Empire, the more he probably knew of what was really going on.

"Any news from the Interior?" Obi-Wan asked casually, sipping his drink. The man was most likely a smuggler, and his business here on Tatooine was probably with Jabba the Hutt; discussing Galactic news was undoubtedly a welcome diversion from more personal questions about his business dealings.

"Not much," the man shrugged. "It's been pretty quiet lately. Although," he laughed suddenly, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he quickly scanned the cantina and lowered his voice, "I hear the Emperor's lost another pet, if you know what I mean," he grinned, deeply amused.

"A pet?" Obi-Wan asked, managing to appear mildly curious, though he suddenly felt a knot in his stomach.

"Yes," the man chuckled, setting his beer down. "I don't know where he finds these freaks, but they never seem to last long," he laughed. "First there was that red and black horned thing, and then - eh, I can't keep them straight," he said, shaking his head. "But the latest was this giant black mechanical robot; I didn't even realize he was half-human, but they say he was," he laughed. "Good riddance though," he finished, shaking his head in disgust.

Obi-Wan struggled to mask his emotions, but on the inside he was trembling with shock and grief. "What happened?" he asked casually. "How did he lose him?"

"I don't know," the man shrugged. "Some kind of fighter crash... They say he was testing one of those new TIE fighters for the Emperor, and - " he made an exploding noise, gesturing dramatically. "Guess he wasn't much of a pilot," he laughed, sipping his beer.

"No, I guess he wasn't," Obi-Wan agreed, managing a weak laugh.

"Anyway, I can't wait to see what kind of mutant he picks up next," the man grinned. "Although I hope not to meet any of them in person," he admitted, shaking his head. "This last one was bad news, from what I've heard," he finished quietly.

"Yes, it sounds like he was," Obi-Wan nodded calmly, finishing his drink. "Thank you for the news, and for the company," he smiled warmly. "I fear I must be getting back home before it gets too dark," he apologized, standing up.

The man nodded casually, and Obi-Wan took his leave, his mind reeling in shock. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings as he exited the cantina and stumbled back through the narrow streets of Mos Eisley._Anakin... Dead?_ He didn't want to believe it; he couldn't. And in a TIE fighter crash... It was inconceivable. Anakin was the most talented pilot he had ever known.

_It is for the best,_ Obi-Wan told himself stubbornly, blinking away the tears that stung his eyes. _It's over. He is at peace now._

But as he mounted his camel and rode out across the sand dunes toward his cave, his head was bowed heavily beneath the brown hood, and his face was streaked with tears of grief.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Four days earlier..._

_Poooh, khhhhhh... Pooooh, khhhhhhh... Pooooh, khhhhhhhh..._

Anakin strode quickly through the hallway of Palpatine's Imperial Star Destroyer, focusing on his breathing. The red switch on his chestplate that activated his mechanical ventilator was turned off; but only the Emperor would notice that. For the past two months he had been secretly training himself to breathe on his own as much as possible; his plan depended upon his ability to survive without the mask.

But he was not quite ready yet, he admitted reluctantly. Feeling suddenly light-headed and weak, he switched the ventilator back on, then relaxed gratefully as the oxygen flowed into his lungs again, strengthening him and pushing away the cobwebs that had been threatening the edges of his vision.

It was a delicate balance, constantly pushing himself to his physical limits while still remaining strong enough mentally to keep the Emperor from guessing his thoughts. He had been walking a tightrope for the past five months, outwardly managing to appear loyal to Palpatine, while secretly plotting to betray him.

There had been a time, briefly, when he had truly been under the Emperor's thrall; but that had all changed the moment he learned of Padme's death. Anakin had done everything Palpatine asked of him, but the Emperor had not upheld his end of the bargain. He had allowed Padme to die, and Anakin hated him for it.

Ironically, it was his hatred of Palpatine that had kept him safely above suspicion these past five months. His hatred made him strong in the Dark side of the Force, and as a result, the Emperor was confident of his loyalty. Little did he realize that his efforts to cultivate Anakin's anger had already backfired against him.

It wasn't only because of Padme that Anakin hated him. Palpatine was pretty easy to hate all on his own, with his annoying insane laughter and the disgusting gurgling sounds he made when he talked. But Anakin had found yet another reason to hate him, one that served as a constant reminder of the Emperor's tyrannical hold on him: the dreaded mechanical suit.

Anakin had known from the start that the medical care he had received after Mustafar had been sub-standard. When he'd lost his arm the first time, the doctors had treated him gently, giving him anaesthesia during the surgery, and painkillers afterward; but Palpatine's surgeons had not bothered with any of that. They had drilled straight into his severed bones without even putting him under, and had made no attempt whatsoever to treat his burns. Palpatine had told him that his pain would make him strong in the Dark side, and in a sense it was true; but ironically, Anakin's anger was now directed at Palpatine alone for having caused it.

Palpatine's doctors claimed that the cybernetic suit and mask were the only things keeping Anakin alive, but he questioned that as well. It was true that his lungs had been badly damaged from smoke inhalation, and that the oxygen helped him to breathe better, especially during the first few weeks after Mustafar; but over time, the mechanical ventilator had effectively weakened his lungs, causing the muscles to atrophy from disuse. For the past two months Anakin had been forcing himself to turn the red switch off and breathe on his own whenever possible, and he suspected that in time he might not need the mask at all, contrary to the doctors' claims.

But over the past several weeks Anakin had begun to develop another suspicion, of something far more sinister than the brutal medical treatment and forced dependence upon the ventilator. He had been unable to eat since being injured, and became nauseous if he so much as smelled food; the doctors claimed that his stomach had been destroyed by the fire, but that simply made no sense. Nevertheless, he now relied exclusively on intravenous injections for his nourishment, and even the thought of food made him feel ill.

Another thing that didn't seem quite right was the fact that none of his hair had grown back, even in areas that had been virtually untouched by the fire. He remembered seeing his face for the first time after it happened, and he could have sworn that he'd still had eyebrows and lashes, though they were badly singed; but strangely they had disappeared altogether over the next few weeks, along with every last hair on his entire body.

All of these symptoms together - the hair loss, the nausea, and the extreme weakness he had felt for the past five months - reminded him of something he had seen before, during a visit to a primitive planet on the outer rim as a young padawan. He had been thrown through a glass window during a minor engagement, and Obi-Wan had taken him to the local hospital to treat his lacerations. But instead of giving him a simple bacta treatment, they had actually sewn the larger gashes closed with a needle and thread, and the scars had never completely healed.

Stranger still, he had met another boy at the hospital that day, whose symptoms were eerily similar to Anakin's present condition: the boy had been completely bald, and painfully thin and weak, relying on an intravenous line for nourishment as Anakin did now. But Obi-Wan had explained afterwards that the boy's symptoms were not caused by his illness directly, but by the barbaric medical practices that these primitive doctors used. The medicine actually caused his hair to fall out, and made him so nauseous that he could not eat; Anakin had been saddened to learn that the boy was not expected to survive the next year, despite the painful treatment he was undergoing.

Anakin suspected that there was more in his intravenous solution than just nourishment and vitamins. True, his injuries had been severe, but five months later he ought to be stronger, not weaker. His powers of the Force had also greatly diminished; Palpatine said that it would take time to learn the Dark side, but he also seemed to find it amusing that Anakin had thus far made no progress whatsoever. _He's keeping me weak on purpose,_ Anakin was now certain. _I'm being poisoned._

But he pushed these thoughts aside as he entered the command bridge and knelt before Palpatine. "You called for me, my Master?" he asked, hating his robotic voice, hating the stupid sound of his breathing, but hating Palpatine most of all. His hatred made him strong in the Dark side, and masked his other thoughts.

"Yes, Lord Vader," the Emperor replied, walking slowly toward the huge window and looking out at the half-completed Death Star as Anakin followed obediently. "The Death Star's superlaser will soon be operational," he informed him. "Our first target will be Coruscant; and then we shall be rid of that pesky Senate once and for all," he said contemptuously. "I should like for you to lead the attack."

"Yes, my Master," Anakin answered, bowing his head respectfully and keeping his mind focused on his hatred. It wasn't so difficult; Palpatine was making that nasty gurgling sound again. "It would be an honor."

Palpatine gazed at him with disdain. "I am most displeased, however, with the lack of progress on the new TIE fighters you have been developing. You had assured me they would be ready weeks ago," he said testily.

"I am sorry, my Master," Anakin apologized. "They will be ready soon; the prototype shows much promise, but requires further testing and modifications," he explained.

"Well then you had best get busy," the Emperor replied impatiently. "We will be needing a thousand units by next month, and I am growing tired of your delays," he warned him.

"Yes, my Master," Anakin said, bowing and taking his leave. "I shall return to my testing immediately."

He strode quickly from the command bridge and continued down the hallway, automatically switching off his ventilator once he was out of the Emperor's sight. But then he switched it back on, changing his mind. _This is it,_ he realized suddenly. _I had been hoping to stall for another month, but I must act now. And I will need my strength._

He was deeply disturbed by the Emperor's plan to attack Coruscant. He had known about it for months now, but he had not thought that the Death Star's superlaser would be ready so soon. Anakin realized that regardless of whether he was ready or not, the time had come to make his move.

* * *

><p>Inside the main hangar, an entire legion of clone troopers stood at attention as Lord Vader strode past them and climbed into the cockpit of his experimental TIE fighter prototype. They watched respectfully as he took off, then returned to their work.<p>

A minute later they heard Lord Vader's emergency transmission over the loudspeaker. "The main engine has failed," Vader announced urgently. "I need immediate backup. I am attempting to - " The transmission ended in a loud crackle, and a moment later the TIE fighter slammed against the hull of the Death Star, exploding in a dazzling ball of flame as bits and pieces of it flew in all directions.

Lord Vader was dead.

* * *

><p>Palpatine stood at the window of the command deck, surveying the wreckage. It was an unfortunate accident, and vexing that his plans would now be set back at least another month; but he was not sorry to see Vader gone. That one had proved to be more trouble than he was worth; though he had to admit, he had served his purpose.<p>

The tracking device inside the black helmet had been destroyed upon impact. Palpatine had felt a slight ripple in the Force at the moment of the crash, but then it had faded away, and the dark presence was gone. Darth Vader was truly dead.

The Emperor's face broke into a gleeful smile, and he cackled with delight at the prospect of finding a new apprentice.

* * *

><p>In the chaos that ensued, no one noticed as a solitary clone trooper staggered aboard a shuttle in the docking bay of the Death Star and flew away from the Imperial fleet, gasping for each painful breath as he pulled off his white helmet.<p>

He'd had to leave the black suit and helmet behind, as he was fairly certain that Palpatine had installed tracking devices. As it was, he had to focus all his mental energy to mask his presence from the Emperor. He had rehearsed this moment for months; at the instant of the crash, as he ejected from the TIE fighter and rolled onto the docking bay of the Death Star, he had suddenly let go of all his anger, all his hatred, all his pain...

Instead of Palpatine's hideous face, he had closed his eyes and pictured all the people who had once loved him. He saw his mother's tender smile; Qui-Gon's approving gaze; Obi-Wan's cheerful grin; and finally, his beautiful Padme... Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that none of these people cared for him anymore, and that they were probably all dead; but just for one moment, Anakin convinced himself that all was well in the galaxy, and that he was going home.

_And in a way, I am,_ he realized ruefully, setting the coordinates for Tatooine and making the jump to hyperspace. He had chosen his home planet simply because he knew his way around, and it was safely beyond Palpatine's reach; but as he slumped back weakly against the pilot's seat, he realized that he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do once he got there. But for the moment, as his head began to swim and the cobwebs once again formed at the edges of his vision, his immediate plan suddenly became much simpler. _Breathe,_ he told himself. _And try not to die before you land._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was a hot summer day on Tatooine.

_Every day is a hot summer day on Tatooine,_ Obi-Wan thought ruefully, lying half-naked on his bed in a vain effort to escape the afternoon heat. _I am in for a lifetime of hot summer days._

Life would be more interesting once Luke was a bit older, he reminded himself. In a couple more years, he could begin training Anakin's son in the ways of the Force; and if the boy was anything like his father, there would never be another dull moment for the next twenty years or so. But for now, all Obi-Wan could do was to watch, and wait. After a lifetime of adventure as a Jedi Knight, sitting around in a cave doing nothing was an exercise in torture, even for a man of Obi-Wan's renowned patience.

At least a large part of the danger was past, he consoled himself sadly. He was still heartbroken by the tragic news of Vader's death, and he grieved deeply for the loss of his beloved friend and padawan; but he was grateful that Anakin was finally at peace, and that Luke was safer now. Vader had been the main threat, and it was unlikely that Palpatine would take an interest in Luke or Leia. Nevertheless, they would remain safely in hiding until they came of age.

He wondered how Padme was handling the news. He'd had no contact with her for several months now, as communication was too risky; but he hoped that she was well, and that perhaps now she could start to put some of her grief behind her. Still, he could not even begin to imagine what she was going through.

They had nearly lost her shortly after the delivery, but thankfully she had recovered the will to live, sensing that there was still some good in Anakin. That belief had kept her going these past five months; but now all hope was lost, and Anakin was truly gone. _At least she has Leia,_ Obi-Wan told himself. After staging a funeral procession to convince Vader and Palpatine of her death, Padme had gone into hiding as a servant in the Organa household on Alderaan, and now she was with her daughter.

Obi-Wan felt himself drifting off to sleep, exhausted by the afternoon heat; but he was awakened suddenly by a terrible sound. _Poooooh, khhhhhhhhh..._ Instantly he rolled out of bed, grabbing his lightsaber and planting his bare feet solidly on the cave floor as he prepared to face his attacker.

Vader stood just inside the doorway, his red lightsaber already activated. Obi-Wan had been dreading this moment since that terrible night on Mustafar; his worst nightmare had just come true. _Or perhaps this is only a dream...?_

"I don't want to fight you, Anakin," he warned the intruder, though he held his defensive stance, his blue lightsaber humming.

"Neither do I," Vader agreed amiably, retracting his red lightsaber and clipping it on his belt. "It's way too hot today."

_Yes. This is just a dream,_ Obi-Wan realized, smiling with relief. "Would you like some lemonade?" he asked Vader. "I just made some fresh this morning." _I wish it were true._

"That would be great, thank you," Vader said, coming into the kitchen and taking a seat at the table.

Obi-Wan poured two glasses of lemonade, and handed one to Vader. "Can you drink with that mask on?" he asked, curious.

"Oh," Vader realized. "No, I keep forgetting." He casually switched off a few things on his chest plate, then pulled the helmet off, running a hand through his long curly hair and smiling cheerfully at Obi-Wan. "Thanks," he said, taking a sip of the lemonade. "So how have you been?"

"Good," Obi-Wan said, uncertain if he should elaborate on his reasons for being here; after all, he was supposed to be protecting Luke from his father. "How are things with Palpatine?" he asked, changing the subject.

Anakin shrugged. "Eh, he sucks. I hate him. But what can you do," he grinned cheerfully. Then he set his glass back down. "Well, I guess I'd better get going," he said, getting up to leave. "Thanks for the lemonade."

"Any time," Obi-Wan said warmly, smiling at his friend. Anakin grinned, putting his helmet back on; then, with a respectful nod to Obi-Wan, he turned and left the cave, switching the ventilator on as he went out.

Obi-Wan lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering how long these dreams would continue. _A long time, I hope,_ he realized sadly. _They're all I have left of him now._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Anakin closed his eyes, conserving his energy and letting the Force guide him as he entered Tatooine's atmosphere. He had found that if he sat quietly and took slow, shallow breaths, it didn't hurt too much, and he had managed to stay conscious for most of the trip. He'd also found some emergency rations aboard the shuttle, and had forced himself to eat a couple bites and drink some water. His stomach felt a bit queasy, but he was going to need his strength once he landed.

He hoped that his suspicions were correct: that the Emperor had been secretly poisoning him through his intravenous injections, but that soon the effects would wear off and he would be able to eat normally again. Breathing was a bit difficult, but as long as he didn't overexert himself it wasn't too bad. In time he would recover, and then he would be in a better position to fight back against Palpatine. But for now, the best he could do was to simply get away from him.

Arriving at Mos Eisley in an Imperial shuttle, dressed in full clone armor, had not been his original plan. Anakin had hoped to have at least another month to prepare for his escape, but that couldn't be helped now; he would just have to deal with it the best he could. _On or off,_ he wondered, looking at the white helmet on the seat beside him. _Off,_ he decided with a rueful sigh. In this town, a bald, hideously scarred criminal would probably have better chances than an Imperial clone trooper.

He landed on a private lot on the outskirts of the city. Mos Eisley was a gambling town, and it was fairly common for visitors to sell their vehicles and other possessions to cover their debts; this lot was connected to a seedy-looking pawn shop, and Anakin figured it was as good a place to start as any. Climbing out of the cockpit, Anakin walked toward the dealership, carrying his helmet in one hand and trying to look casual while not passing out at the same time.

The owner gave him a hard stare as he entered the shop, but Anakin ignored it. "How much for a Lambda-class shuttle, and the uniform?" he asked casually, as if selling stolen Imperial equipment was something he did every day.

"Not interested," the shop owner said gruffly.

"Ah, but I think some of your customers would be," Anakin suggested, with a subtle wave of his hand. "You could get at least ten thousand for the shuttle alone."

The man shrugged, feigning indifference. "Two thousand. Take it or leave it."

"Five," Anakin said firmly.

"Three," the man countered. "Or take your business elsewhere."

Anakin nodded. Three thousand was a fair price, and he was glad to be rid of it without further trouble. The pawn shop also had a used clothing section, and Anakin picked out some things that looked like they might fit. The owner was kind enough to let him use the back room to change.

A minute later he emerged wearing a plain grey cloak over a faded green tunic and off-white pants; it didn't exactly match, but at least it wasn't black. He was sick of black. "You'll have to sign the register," the shop owner informed him. Anakin nodded and casually signed it, making up the first name that popped into his head. _Good thing no one ever checks these things,_ Anakin grinned mischievously, pulling up his grey hood as he exited the shop.

It was good to be back home, he decided, smiling as he walked through the narrow streets of Mos Eisley. He knew that he had a difficult task before him, and that he must somehow find a way to contact Obi-Wan and alert him of Palpatine's plan to attack Coruscant; but for the moment it just felt so good to be free. To feel the warm sun on his face again, and to breathe with his own lungs, even if it was a bit difficult and tiring.

The streets were lined with vendors selling everything you could imagine; as he walked along, Anakin smelled something wonderful that reminded him of his childhood. Sure enough, there was a stand selling barbecued Nylog, which had been one of his favorite treats as a child. It was the first time in five months that food had actually smelled good to him instead of making him nauseous; Anakin realized that he was starving, and so he bought one, along with a refreshing drink.

It was delicious, and Anakin smiled happily as he sat at a little table, catching his breath and enjoying his meal as he watched all the people walking by. His stomach was feeling a lot better now; he realized that had been right about the poisoning. _It's nice to feel human again,_ he thought happily, munching on his Nylog and sipping his drink.

"Can I shine your boots, Mister?" a little boy asked, looking up at him hopefully with his dirty rag and bottle of polish. Anakin couldn't help smiling; the kid was just too adorable. And his boots _were_ a bit dusty, he had to admit.

"Sure," he said good-naturedly, eyes twinkling with amusement as the boy set about his work, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was shining the infamous black boots of Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith. _Not any more,_ Anakin sighed ruefully, remembering that he had a difficult task ahead of him. He had not come to Tatooine to enjoy the local cuisine or have his boots shined; but for the moment, he was enjoying this brief moment of peace and relaxation.

"Thank you," Anakin smiled, as the boy finished his work. "How much do I owe you?" The boy named his price, and Anakin gave him twice as much; then he noticed a brand on the boy's arm. "Are you a slave?" he asked suddenly.

The boy had been about to thank him for his generous tip; but now he looked up at him, wide-eyed with fear. "Don't tell my master, please sir," he begged. "Here, please, keep your money." He tried to give it back to Anakin, afraid of being caught for working a side job without his master's permission.

"No," Anakin said softly, "Keep it. I only asked because I was a slave once. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Thank you, sir," the boy said, relieved; then he looked up at him, curious. "You were a slave?" he asked. "Is that how you got...?" He pointed to his own cheek, then shook his head, shrugging. "My master beats me too sometimes. But not that bad," he admitted quietly.

"Who is your master?" Anakin asked, concerned. But the boy shook his head fearfully, backing away; then he suddenly turned and was gone, disappearing into the crowded street.

_I didn't actually come here to free slaves,_ Anakin sighed sadly, recalling Qui-Gon's exact words to his mother so many years ago. At the time he had thought the Jedi Master to be cruel and uncaring, but now, he sadly understood his position. Anakin had vowed that if he ever returned to Tatooine, he would free all the slaves, but now he shook his head regretfully, realizing that he had larger responsibilities to attend to. _But perhaps one day I will..._

"Mr. Putin?" Anakin looked up, surprised to see that he was surrounded by armed guards; but the man who addressed him was being respectful and courteous. "Mr. Putin, will you please come with me?"

_Oh great,_ Anakin thought glumly, cursing himself as he remembered the name he had signed in the pawn shop register. "What is this about?" he asked, glancing at the armed guards with an air of boredom, then fixing his most intense gaze on the leader, letting him get a good look at his scars. _Intimidation is of the Dark side,_ he reminded himself; but at the moment he didn't care.

"Mr. Putin, your presence has been requested by his Excellency, Jabba the Hutt."

_Perfect._ Anakin had been considering enlisting the Hutt's assistance in his plot against the Emperor, but he had not expected to meet with him so soon. _Well, at least I get a free ride to the palace. Although I would have preferred not to arrive under an armed escort._ Nodding casually, he unhurriedly took a last sip of his drink, then followed the guards back to their hovercraft.

A few minutes later Anakin found himself in Jabba's main audience chamber, kneeling respectfully before the Hutt. _Wow. He has really gotten fat since the last time I saw him._ Then he cringed as Jabba's Twi'lek assistant announced his name.

"This is the man who sold the Imperial shuttle," Bib Fortuna informed his master in Huttese. "His name is Fu-kyu'p al Putin."

_Damn,_ Anakin cursed himself. _Why did I have to be a smartass... Why couldn't I have thought of something less noticeable..._

"Fooooooo-kyooooooo," Jabba said, amused by his name. "Hahahahahahaaaa."

"Fu-kyu'p," Anakin corrected him politely. "My name is Fu-kyu'p. With a P."

"Fooooo-kyoooo_pppppppp_," Jabba said, spitting slime all over him.

"On second thought, Fu-kyu is fine," Anakin said through gritted teeth. "Don't worry about it."

"I have not heard of you before, smuggler," Jabba continued in Huttese, grabbing a tasty critter from his dish and munching on it greedily. "That is not a name that I would easily forget. How did you come to be in possession of an Imperial shuttle?" he demanded, licking his lips.

"My business is my own," Anakin replied evenly.

"Hahahaa," Jabba laughed, spewing bits of food onto him. "You are a feisty one, smuggler. I could find a use for your talents. But first you must pay a fine, for selling an illegal Imperial vessel. Five thousand," he demanded.

"I sold it for three thousand," Anakin pointed out reasonably.

"Five thousand!" Jabba insisted. "Five thousand, or I feed you to the Rancor," he threatened, moving his hand to the switch that activated the trap door beneath Anakin's feet.

"If you feed me to the Rancor you will not get your five thousand," Anakin reminded him patiently.

"No, but I shall have a good laugh," Jabba said, swatting absently at a critter that had escaped from his dinner bowl.

"Well if it's entertainment that you want," Anakin suggested, "Enter me in the next pod race. If I win, you will drop the fine. If I lose, you can feed me to the Rancor."

"Hahahahaaa," Jabba laughed, accidentally smacking Bib Fortuna and knocking him to the floor. "If you lose, there will be nothing left of you to feed to the Rancor. No human has survived a pod race in over ten years," he said, burping loudly. "But it shall be amusing to watch you try. We have a deal, smuggler."

"Thank you, Your Excellency," Anakin bowed politely, as the guards escorted him to the dungeons to await the race. Somehow, he miraculously managed to walk all the way to his cell before collapsing onto the floor in utter exhausion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the floor of his cave, deep in meditation. For the past five months he had been attempting to contact Qui-Gon, and he had been faithfully practicing the exercises that Yoda had recently taught him; but thus far he had not been able to sense his old Master's presence.

He hoped that he would learn the skill soon. It was lonely in the cave, all by himself, and it would be nice to be able to talk to Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan had never been alone for so long in his entire life. He had been raised at the Jedi Temple along with the other younglings; then he'd spent twelve years with Qui-Gon, and the last thirteen with Anakin. The Jedi were his family, despite their ideals of having no attachments.

But if solitude was what was required of him, then he would learn to endure it. And he was not completely alone; he still visited Mos Eisley on a weekly basis, and enjoyed chatting with people in the cantina now and then, though lately the news had made him terribly sad.

Two weeks ago he had learned of Anakin's passing, and during his last visit he had been forced to endure three separate conversations with people eager to tell him the shocking and ironically humorous details of how the despised Lord Vader had crashed in his own TIE fighter. It seemed that everywhere he turned lately, he was reminded painfully of Anakin, which did not help his efforts to move beyond his grief.

The latest news in Mos Eisley was that a human had recently entered the local pod race, and had actually been in the lead for most of the race; in fact, he might have won if his engine hadn't failed during the last lap. Miraculously he had survived the crash, but ironically he was to be executed anyway, as he had fallen from grace with Jabba the Hutt.

Obi-Wan had never seen a pod race, so the man at the cantina had enthusiastically launched into a detailed description of the sport, explaining that the last human to win a pod race had been a little slave boy, over ten years ago. "I wonder whatever happened to him," the man had mused thoughtfully, before Obi-Wan had politely excused himself and left the cantina, unable to listen to any more news.

His relations with Owen and Beru were not as close as he would have liked either. When he had first brought Luke to Tatooine, Obi-Wan had spent a lot more time at the Lars' residence, helping Beru with the baby while Owen worked on the moisture farm. Unfortunately Owen had become suspicious of the amount of time they spent together, and was jealous of Beru's innocent affection for the Jedi Master; it had quickly become obvious that Obi-Wan was not entirely welcome at the Lars' household. He still visited once a week just to make sure Luke was all right, but he was careful never to stop by if Beru was home alone.

He had even tried offering to help Owen with his farm work, but by then it was already too late; Owen had gruffly told him that he could manage things just fine on his own, and that Beru didn't need his help either. Obi-Wan felt like he was treading on thin ice with Owen, and was beginning to fear that he might not allow him to spend time with Luke when he was old enough to begin his training.

His only other companions out here in the desert were the sand people; and they were not entirely friendly. Shortly after he had taken up residence in his cave, they had staged an unexpected assault one night, and Obi-Wan had been forced to kill over a dozen of them before the rest finally retreated. Since then they had left him alone, fearful of his skill with a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan had felt bad about what happened, and had carefully laid out the bodies of the slain on a nearby ridge, returning them for proper burial; he had watched from a distance as the others held a primitive funeral ceremony. Another time he had accidentally stumbled upon a group of women and children on his way back from the Lars' residence; they had fled in panic at the sight of him, but one woman, heavy with child, had collapsed and gone into labor from the shock. Obi-Wan had helped to deliver the child, and carried them back to the village; since then, the sand people had not given him any trouble, and in fact he frequently found offerings of meat and precious water outside his cave entrance.

He was glad to have peaceful relations with the sand people, but they weren't exactly the friendliest company either. Obi-Wan longed for someone to talk to; someone who wouldn't laugh over Vader's death, or be jealous of his friendly nature. Yes, Qui-Gon was his best hope. Obi-Wan relaxed once more, trying to focus on his old Master's presence.

But as usual, it was Anakin that he felt. Ever since his death, Obi-Wan had felt his presence, as if he were somewhere nearby. He had also been having recurring dreams of him showing up here in his cave; sometimes dressed as Vader, sometimes in a plain grey cloak, sometimes terribly scarred and injured, and other times looking exactly like his old self; but always he was Anakin, and he came in peace and friendship. Obi-Wan wondered if perhaps Anakin was learning the path that Qui-Gon had discovered; it didn't surprise him, considering Anakin's talent, and he truly hoped that one day he would be able to speak with his beloved friend once again. There was so much that he wished he could tell him.

_You were a brother to me... And a son. You were my truest friend, my greatest ally, my pride and joy, my brightest hope... I loved you, Anakin. And I failed you. I failed you..._

* * *

><p><em>Master?<em> Anakin sat up in his dark cell, startled. He had been drifting off to sleep, but could have sworn he heard Obi-Wan's voice. _Master, can you hear me?_ But there was no reply, and Anakin slumped back against the wall, exhausted.

The pod race had not gone well. Actually, it had been fine right up until the end; Anakin had been in the lead, an entire lap ahead of everyone else, but then one of his engines had completely failed, and the world had begun to spin rapidly in a dizzying blur of sand and rocks and sun and sky and sand and rocks, and then blackness...

He had awakened in the same cell that he'd been in before the pod race, and at first he hadn't been certain if the race had actually happened, or if he had simply dreamed it; but the aches and bruises all over his body were real enough, as was the bloody, sand-encrusted gash across his left eyebrow and cheek.

_I am a mess,_ he realized ruefully. _Now I'm getting scars on top of scars._ If he'd had his real arms and legs, they probably would have been scraped up and broken too. There were some advantages to having mechanical limbs; at least they didn't bleed.

He wondered how long it would be before Jabba got around to feeding him to the Rancor. Soon, he hoped; Anakin had been going over his plan for days, and he was fairly certain that he could enlist Jabba's help in his war against Palpatine. Greed was a powerful motivator, and Anakin had thought of a way for Jabba to grow fabulously wealthy while simultaneously thwarting the Emperor's plans.

The most difficult part would be finding Obi-Wan and Yoda. He had no idea where they might be, though he guessed that they were probably leading the underground faction known as the Rebel Alliance. Palpatine had charged Anakin with the task of hunting down these rebels, but unfortunately he had not made much progress, either in gathering information or using the Force to sense their presence.

_Maybe I could have done better if he hadn't been poisoning me,_ Anakin thought bitterly. He now had the final proof that his suspicions had been correct: his hair was beginning to grow back. Perhaps now that his strength was returning, he might be able to sense their presence. It was imperative that he find them; the only hope of defeating Palpatine now was if the three remaining Jedi joined forces against him. _They need me,_ Anakin realized sadly. _Whether they want me or not._

Closing his eyes, he tried once more to reach out with the Force. _Yoda... Obi-Wan..._

* * *

><p><em>Anakin?<em> Obi-Wan opened his eyes, his meditation once again interrupted. Then he sighed, shaking his head. _I must learn to focus better,_ he told himself. _My task is to contact Qui-Gon, not Anakin._ Closing his eyes, he tried to block the strong presence he felt from his former padawan, and focused once again on thoughts of his old Master.

* * *

><p>Palpatine gazed out across the endless sea of stars from his throne room aboard the Star Destroyer. He had been sensing unusual activity lately, and at first he had assumed it to be only a residual ripple in the Force, perhaps due to Vader's passing; but it had grown steadily stronger over the past two weeks, and now he was certain of his suspicion. Smiling malevolently, he focused his gaze on a small, distant planet on the outer rim as he tapped his fingers absently on the arm of his throne.<p>

_The Force is unusually strong on Tatooine these days. I believe I shall find my new apprentice there._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_This is the life,_ Jabba thought smugly, gorging himself on delicious grilled Bantha steaks while enjoying the evening's musical entertainment inside his throne room. His favorite band was playing tonight, and he wobbled back and forth to the music, indulging himself in steamy hot fantasies involving the voluptuous female lead singer.

This was the fifth time he had invited her to sing for him in the past month, and he was beginning to wonder if the feelings were mutual. Ever since her first performance, he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind. Normally he wasn't into humans, and preferred Twi'leks and other species, but this woman was different. She wanted him. He could tell by the way she flirted, and the suggestive dance moves... _Yes. She wants me._

"Stop!" he commanded, and the band fell silent. "You! Woman! You will join me in my private chamber tonight." Women liked directness, he knew. They appreciated a big, strong male who knew what he wanted. He held his arms out in a gesture of welcome, inviting her to come forward and embrace him. As an afterthought, he licked his lips so they would be nice and glossy; he knew he was irresistable when he did that.

But instead of rushing into his arms and smothering him with kisses, the woman just stood there stupidly, staring at him wide-eyed with an expression of shock and fear.

Jabba sighed with annoyance. He should have known; it was not meant to be. Humans had the most perverted tastes of any species he had ever met; most of them preferred scrawny, stick-like beings, and were simply incapable of appreciating Jabba's raw sexual magnetism. _Her loss,_ he shrugged, activating the trap door and sending her down to the Rancor.

He laughed with great amusement as the Rancor devoured her hungrily. He hadn't eaten in several days, and Jabba sighed with frustration as he remembered why.

That pesky smuggler had been a nuisance since the moment he arrived in Mos Eisley. Jabba did not trust him one bit, showing up in clone armor with a stolen Imperial vessel; clearly the man knew more than he was letting on, and it vexed Jabba to think that he had been operating independently, outside the influence of the Hutts.

"Bring me Foooo-kyooo," he demanded abruptly, shoving his food aside. His evening was ruined anyway; he may as well deal with this now.

It had been over a week since the pod race, and still he had not fed him to the Rancor. At first it was because he had been unconscious after the crash; there was no pleasure in watching a man die if he didn't even know it was happening. But then Jabba had begun to receive offers from various individuals who had been impressed with the man's performance in the pod race, and wished to buy him as a slave. The highest offer so far was thirteen thousand; it was more than twice the amount that Jabba had originally fined the smuggler, and he would be foolish not to take the offer.

But there was something about this man, Jabba had to admit. He _was_ an incredible pilot. Jabba had provided him with an old, broken-down pod racer, not wanting to waste a good one on such a lost cause; but the man had nearly won the race anyway. Jabba was considering keeping him on as his personal racing pilot; but he was beginning to suspect that the man might have other talents which could prove even more valuable.

One thing was certain, Jabba decided, as the smuggler was dragged before him between two armed guards: there was more to this man than meets the eye. Not that he was much to look at; he was by far the ugliest human Jabba had ever laid eyes on, and he didn't appear to be in very good health either. Thirteen thousand for this sorry creature was indeed a tempting offer.

"Foooo-kyooo," Jabba said. "This is your last chance. Give me one reason why I should not feed you to the Rancor."

"Your Excellency," the smuggler began, bowing humbly. "I apologize, for the loss of your pod racer, and I would like to make it up to you." He looked around uncomfortably, then lowered his voice. "Your Excellency, you asked before how I came to be in possession of an Imperial shuttle, and I will take that secret to my grave if I must; but if I could speak with you in private, there is a matter that I think might be of interest to you," he said quietly.

_Good,_ Jabba thought to himself. _It is as I suspected; this man might be of service to me after all._ "Leave us," he demanded, dismissing the guards and other servants. He rested his hand on the trap door switch, just to be safe. "So, smuggler," he asked quietly. "What is it that you could not tell me before?" He realized he had been wrong about one thing: this man understood Huttese, and clearly had more dealings with the Hutts than Jabba had originally thought.

"Jabba," the man said respectfully, in a low voice, "It is true that I have had dealings with the Empire, and I fear I have gotten into a bit of legal trouble, which is why I came here," he admitted regretfully. "But I have connections that might be of value to you. I have been in the business of smuggling Krylosian crystals for the past several years, and recently the Emperor has taken a tremendous interest in the trade; he is buying up every last crystal that can be found. I don't know what he's building, but clearly he needs more of these crystals; the miners on Krylos have been working round the clock to fill his orders."

Jabba's eyes narrowed, and he nodded slowly. "Krylosian crystals," he mused. "He is building laser weapons."

"Yes, that is my belief as well," the smuggler agreed quietly. "And it means that soon the Emperor's military control of the galaxy will be even stronger; his presence might soon extend all the way here to the outer rim."

Jabba nodded gravely. Palpatine's war had seemed only a vague, distant threat five months ago, but already the Hutts were feeling the effects of the Emperor's growing influence. "Krylos is under the jurisdiction of my nephew, Badulla. He has mentioned nothing of this to me."

"Badulla does not want the other Hutts to know," the smuggler said quietly. "He has been making a fortune in taxes."

"Aaaahhhhh!" Jabba said angrily, then lowered his voice. "Badulla owes me five million; he just borrowed more last month! He has been cheating me!" he realized, furious. "I will kill him!"

"I have a better idea," the smuggler suggested. "I've had some time to think lately, and I believe I have come up with a plan that might benefit both of us, and slow down the Emperor's laser production at the same time."

Jabba listened as the smuggler explained his plan; then he nodded, laughing softly. "I like you, smuggler," he declared finally. "Yes, we have a deal."

* * *

><p><em>Later that night...<em>

A tall, grey-hooded figure walked through the dark alleyways of Mos Eisley, keeping to the shadows. He was glad to finally be out of prison, and even more relieved that Jabba had agreed to cooperate with his plot to delay the Emperor's superlaser production. Jabba would inundate Badulla the Hutt with trade embargoes, taxes, levies, seizure of shipments, and possibly even organize a miner's strike on Krylos; Palpatine would not be able to get his hands on any more Krylosian crystals for at least another month.

Hopefully that would give Anakin enough time to contact the rebel alliance and find Obi-Wan and Yoda, to alert them of Palpatine's plans to attack the Senate. He dreaded the thought of having to face either of them ever again, but knew that he must put his personal feelings aside; regardless of what had happened in the past, it was imperative that they join forces against the Emperor now.

His attempts to reach out to the other Jedi using the Force had been unsuccessful. They had gone into hiding, and were doubtless masking their presence from him. Anakin had not sensed even the slightest hint of Yoda, which did not surprise him; Yoda's skill in that area far outmatched his own. But he had felt Obi-Wan's presence quite strongly. Several times he thought he had almost made contact; but Obi-Wan had repeatedly blocked Anakin's efforts to reach him.

He was glad to know that Obi-Wan was alive and well, hiding someplace safe; and he really couldn't blame his old Master for blocking him. Anakin would keep trying to establish contact, but in the meantime he realized that he needed to find a more tangible way to warn the rebel alliance of Palpatine's plans.

Anakin had given it a lot of thought while sitting in his prison cell. He needed to find someone he could trust; someone who could at least attempt to get word to the rebel alliance, and not betray him to the Emperor. But aside from Obi-Wan and Yoda, Anakin did not trust anyone. And so he had finally asked himself: _Who would Padme have trusted?_

Her closest affiliate in the Senate had been Jar Jar Binks, the Gungan representative from Naboo; he was kind-hearted and loyal, but discretion was not his strong point, and Anakin had decided that entrusting him with a secret message was out of the question. However, Padme had always spoken highly of Senator Organa of Alderaan. She had looked up to him as a man of good conscience and the highest ethics. At the time, Anakin had been annoyed by her lack of confidence in Palpatine; but he knew now that Padme had been right all along. And if she trusted Organa, then Anakin would have to do the same.

Reaching his destination, Anakin stepped inside the dimly-lit shop, leaving his hood up to hide his face. "I need to send an untraceable communication," he informed the shop owner quietly. The man nodded, and handed him a type pad to enter his anonymous message. When he was finished, Anakin paid the man extra to ensure his confidentiality; then he quietly exited the shop and disappeared into the shadows once again, praying that Organa would heed his warning and find a way to contact the rebel alliance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It was a typical afternoon in the Kenobi household. The cave was neat and tidy: the floor was swept, the dishes were all washed and stacked neatly in the cupboard; and then the floor was swept once again, for good measure. Obi-Wan lay in bed, half-naked as usual and passed out from sheer boredom.

But in his dream he was sitting cross-legged on the floor in a meditative pose, dutifully attempting to contact Qui-Gon. He was also dressed a bit more decently, although his white tunic was casually left open in the front, and his pants were rolled up just above his ankles. He always went barefoot inside the cave, and only wore his boots and cloak when he went out.

Sensing a familiar presence approaching, Obi-Wan smiled in his sleep. If this had been real, and if he were truly attempting to contact Qui-Gon, he would have blocked Anakin; but it was only a dream, and so he let him come. Getting up from his meditative pose on the cave floor, he adjusted his tunic and put his belt on properly; it seemed silly, but even if it was just a dream, it was still his job to be a good role model for Anakin.

He wondered how Anakin would look today. Last time he was wearing a clone trooper uniform, and Obi-Wan hadn't been able to make any sense of what he was saying; he had been terribly upset about something, and kept babbling about crystals and superlasers until he hyperventilated. That had not been the best dream ever; Obi-Wan hoped this one would be more pleasant.

Going to the cave entrance, he was surprised to see Anakin approaching on foot. _He walked all the way out here?_ This was a first; half the fun was seeing how he'd get here, and his mode of transportation could be anything from a Bantha to an Imperial Star Destroyer. But today he was on foot, and he looked tired.

He was dressed as a Jedi padawan today; that was a good sign. He wore a simple off-white tunic and black boots, and Obi-Wan was grateful to see there was no lightsaber hanging from his belt. _He's probably lost it again,_ he thought, smiling fondly. His hair was short, with a little ponytail in back; there was a minor gash on the top of his head, and a faded scar on his cheek, but it was really not bad. Sometimes his injuries were terrible; Obi-Wan hated those dreams.

Anakin knew the drill; they had been through this so many times before. Stumbling into the cave entrance, he fell to his knees, panting in exhaustion. "I'm sorry, Master," he said, gasping for breath. "I'm sorry, about Mustafar."

"It's all right, Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently. "I'm sorry too." Anakin nodded gratefully; they were both glad to have that part of the conversation out of the way. Obi-Wan helped him to his feet and brought him over to the kitchen table. "Would you like some milk and cookies?"

"Yes, please," Anakin said, laying his head on the table and catching his breath.

"You look tired, Anakin," Obi-Wan mentioned with a concerned look, bringing over a little plate of cookies and a glass of milk, then sitting next to him at the table. "Did you walk all the way out here?"

"Yeah," Anakin sighed, sitting up again. "I'm trying to get back in shape," he admitted, with a rueful shrug. "Thank you," he added politely, sipping his milk and munching on a cookie.

"So what have you been up to lately?" Obi-Wan asked, glad to see him looking so well. He had his real hands today, though they looked a bit scraped up, and were covered in fresh cuts.

"Oh," Anakin shrugged, seeing his concerned expression. "Pod racing accident," he explained. "It was fun though; I almost won," he grinned suddenly, his blue eyes sparkling happily.

"That's wonderful, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, smiling proudly. It was the first time Anakin had spoken of doing anything fun since he'd died. "I'm sure if you keep at it you will win one of these days," he said affectionately. "You are a good pilot, Anakin."

"Thank you," Anakin said shyly. Then a slightly concerned, confused look crossed his face. _Here it comes,_Obi-Wan thought ruefully. "Master," Anakin said slowly, "I need to talk to you about something."

"Of course, Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently. "What's troubling you?" he asked, masking his sadness but knowing that this dream was only going to go downhill from here.

"Master, it's about the Death Star," Anakin began reluctantly. He had spoken of this Death Star before; Obi-Wan guessed that it was a horrifying place where Anakin had been sent in the afterlife, perhaps as punishment. Talking about it always upset him terribly. "It's almost - " he broke off suddenly, and they both turned toward the cave entrance.

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, looking at them sternly.

There was a moment of awkward silence; then Anakin shrugged obediently, getting up from the table. "I guess I'd better go," he said quietly. With a last apologetic glance at Obi-Wan, he walked to the cave entrance, keeping his head bowed in shame as he slipped past Qui-Gon and vanished into nothingness.

_Goodbye, Anakin,_ Obi-Wan wanted to call after him; but instead, he knelt respectfully before his old Master. "I'm sorry, Master," he apologized sincerely. "It is good to see you." He waited a long moment for Qui-Gon's reply; but when none came, he opened his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling, lying on his bed and utterly alone once again.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Obi-Wan rode into Mos Eisley on his weekly visit for supplies and information. It had been over a month since Anakin's death, and thankfully Vader's accident had already become old news; with any luck no one would speak of it at all today.<p>

He had visited the Lars homestead a few days earlier, and had been surprised to learn that Senator Organa had sent him an encrypted message through Owen. It was only the second time in six months that Organa had risked communication, and Obi-Wan had feared that something had happened to Leia, or Padme. Thankfully they were fine, but still the message was disturbing.

Organa had been contacted by an anonymous informant who claimed that Palpatine was planning an attack on Coruscant. The informant had asked him to alert the rebel alliance and the Jedi if possible, and had left an untraceable communication account number, requesting that someone contact him for more information.

Organa had been tempted to respond, but in the end he had decided against it, thinking that it could too easily be a trap by the Emperor to lure the rebels out of hiding. He had of course alerted the other members of the rebel alliance, and they would continue to be vigilant, but he could not risk replying to this anonymous informant; too much was at stake.

Obi-Wan had reluctantly agreed with Organa's decision, though he was still disturbed and puzzled by the message. If the informant was telling the truth, and Coruscant was truly in danger, he hoped that the man would contact Organa again soon with more specific details. But for now, all they could do was to keep their eyes and ears open.

It had been good to see Luke though. He was six months old now, and Obi-Wan had been surprised to find him crawling around; it was a new trick he had learned just this past week. He was a cheerful baby, always smiling, with big blue eyes; he looked more and more like his father every day. But in temperament he seemed to be quite the opposite: Luke was an easy-going baby, patient and undemanding, and Obi-Wan prayed that those traits would carry into his adult life.

Reaching the outskirts of Mos Eisley, Obi-Wan surveyed the new construction site with curiosity. Apparently Jabba was building a new luxury hotel and casino, and from the looks of it, it was going to be a tremendous establishment, towering above the rest of Mos Eisley. He wondered where Jabba had suddenly found the money to build such a lavish hotel.

The cantina was full when Obi-Wan arrived. It was lunch hour, and Obi-Wan decided to shop for some supplies first, and return when it was less crowded; but then a vaguely familiar man waved him over, inviting him to sit with him. _Oh dear, people are starting to recognize me,_ Obi-Wan realized. _I must stop coming here so often._ But he smiled warmly, joining the man and his two other companions in their enclosed booth.

They were construction workers, and now Obi-Wan remembered speaking to the first man briefly the previous week. "How is the work coming along?" he asked, curious to learn more about Jabba's latest project.

"Great, so far," he replied cheerfully. "I don't know how much longer Jabba can afford to pay us all overtime, but I'm not complaining," he grinned.

The second man nodded in agreement. "I heard he's taken over Badulla's operations on - "

"Shh," the third man warned them quietly, and suddenly they all fell silent, staring nervously down at their plates as a tall, grey-cloaked figure walked by, his hood drawn up. After he passed out of earshot they relaxed a bit, sighing with relief. "Lord Putin," the third man whispered to Obi-Wan. "You don't want to cross that one; he has eyes in the back of his head."

"Who is he?" Obi-Wan asked, watching with curiosity as the hooded figure left the cantina.

"Jabba's new advisor. Some say he's just a smuggler who got lucky, but whoever he is, he's the one behind all this new money," the second man explained. "They call him 'Lord Putin' because of the way he acts: he talks all quiet and low, and walks around in that hooded cloak like he owns the galaxy... And the way he_looks_ at you; it's like he can see straight through you," the man shuddered. "That guy gives me the creeps," he admitted quietly.

"He's got Jabba in his back pocket," the first man agreed. "If you ask me, _he's_ the new crime lord on Tatooine."

"I see," Obi-Wan nodded. _Interesting..._ He thought he had felt something as the man passed by; an unwavering intensity of purpose, cold and calculating. _I must keep my eye on that one._

Thankfully the conversation turned to other topics, and Obi-Wan smiled to himself, grateful for this brief moment of companionship as he relaxed and enjoyed his lunch. It occurred to him that for the first time in over a month, he was able to have a normal conversation that for once didn't revolve around Anakin.

_I must finally be getting over my grief,_ he realized with a smile of tender regret.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Emperor Palpatine sighed in annoyance as he approached Mos Eisley in an old, somewhat run-down smuggling ship. This type of mission was beneath him; normally he would have sent his apprentice to take care of such trivial matters. But he was between apprentices at the moment, and so he had been forced to come himself, with only a small crew to man the ship.

He was vexed by the lack of progress on the Death Star's superlaser. Those stupid Hutts had gotten themselves into some kind of gang rivalry, and as a result Palpatine had been unable to obtain any more Krylosian crystals for the past month. It was time to pay a visit to Jabba and deal with this matter directly.

But there was another reason for his visit today; a matter that had been troubling him for some time now. As they touched down in the docking bay adjacent to Jabba's palace, Palpatine once again felt the strong Force presence that he had been sensing for the past several weeks. He was now certain that his visit to Tatooine would prove to be productive in more ways than one, though he was still slightly puzzled by this turn of events.

"Will you be needing my assistance, Lord Sidious?" the captain inquired courteously after they landed.

"No," Palpatine replied. "I will deal with this matter myself. Wait here for my return."

"As you wish, my Lord," the captain said with a polite bow, as Palpatine walked down the gangplank and slowly made his way toward Jabba's palace.

* * *

><p>Anakin was hard at work as usual, training secretly with his newly-constructed lightsaber in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Mos Eisley. He had built the lightsaber from spare parts he'd found lying around, and had even helped himself to a few Krylosian crystals from Jabba's massive stockpile. Anakin found it somewhat regrettable that Krylosian crystals gave off a red laser color; but a lightsaber was a lightsaber, and the important thing was that it worked.<p>

_I don't care what color I use to kill him,_ he reminded himself angrily as he practiced his moves, imagining that he was fighting against Palpatine. _As long as he's dead, that's all that matters. He's a stupid liar. He let Padme die, and I hate him. I hate him I hate him I hate him... _

_Oh crap._ He had been hacking angrily at the base of a giant piece of scaffolding, and now he quickly reached a hand up and used the Force to prevent the entire structure from falling on top of him. _That was brilliant. But good practice,_ he decided ruefully, sitting down and panting from exhaustion.

He was still not in the greatest shape, he admitted reluctantly, gasping for air as his lungs seared with pain. But he was getting stronger every day, and in another couple weeks he thought he would be ready. Hopefully by then he would have made contact with the rebel alliance, and then they could begin to plan their attack on the Emperor.

It had been three weeks since he had contacted Senator Organa, and still he had not heard back from the rebel alliance. That was to be expected; they would have suspected a trap, and although Anakin had hoped for a reply, he understood that it was too risky. He would send another message with more specific details when the time drew near; but for now, he hoped that Organa had at least been able to make contact with the rebels and alert them of the danger.

He'd had no luck whatsoever in reaching Obi-Wan. His master continued to block him, and Anakin still tried now and then to break through; but it was a losing battle, and he felt slightly guilty for making Obi-Wan work so hard to shut him out. _He must really hate me,_ Anakin sighed ruefully, getting up and returning to his practice.

_No. Hatred is of the Dark side,_ he reminded himself, working on his form as he slowly executed his moves. Normally he found the slower exercises to be pure torture, and he preferred to practice at full speed; but lately he had been forcing himself to be more disciplined, and not just because it was easier on his lungs. Quietly, he admitted that he was afraid of what might happen if he didn't learn to control himself.

Ever since he'd come to Tatooine he had been using his Dark powers to manipulate people in order to get whatever he wanted. Anakin had tried to justify his methods, reasoning that so long as his motive was to destroy Palpatine, it didn't really matter how he accomplished it. And at the moment it seemed to be working to his advantage; but deep down he knew that flirting with the Dark side was extremely dangerous.

_Once Palpatine is gone, I will stop,_ he told himself again. _I will give up the Dark side, and stick to the Jedi Code._ But for now, he had to admit that Palpatine was right about one thing: if he wanted to become powerful enough to defeat the Emperor, he had to embrace a larger view of the Force, and not restrict himself to only the Light side.

He wondered how Obi-Wan and the others did it. How could they renounce the Dark side, when it meant giving up half their powers? _Maybe it's not half of their powers,_ Anakin considered, balancing on one foot and spinning around as he made a graceful but deadly arc with his red lightsaber. _Maybe they're not as strong in the Dark side, so it's not as hard for them._

Anakin had always felt that he was stronger in the Dark side than any other Jedi he knew; but until six months ago he had not realized just how dangerous the imbalance was. The Dark side came naturally to him, whereas the Light side required constant focus and discipline. Intellectually and morally, he knew that the Dark side was wrong; but to renounce it was to be only half the person that he truly was.

He had never quite fit in with the Jedi, but he'd been an even worse Sith, unable to give up feelings of compassion, forgiveness, and love. Anakin felt that his powers were split right down the middle, with equal parts of Dark and Light. Being a Jedi was difficult but he loved it; being a Sith was easy, and he hated it. He wished there were an option halfway in between; but if he was forced to choose sides, there was no question about it: his alliance was with the Jedi.

_Not that they'd ever take me back,_ he knew. Anakin had never been much of a scholar, and he was by no means an expert in the intricacies of the Jedi Code, but still he was fairly certain that becoming a Sith lord was grounds for permanent expulsion from the Order. _Not that there even is an Order any more, thanks to me,_ he realized guiltily, giving up his disciplined slow practice and swiping his lightsaber absently in random directions.

Over the past six months he had come to accept the truth: that he could give up the Dark side, but he could never be a Jedi again. He had betrayed and destroyed everything and everyone he had ever cared about; there was nothing to go back to any more. The only thing remaining was to seek revenge on Palpatine; but once that was accomplished, Anakin knew that it was the end for him. In a strange way, he didn't even mind; once this last business was finished, he could rest in peace.

_No. Despair is of the Dark side._ But what hope could there possibly be? Anakin had asked himself that question a thousand times; and as always, he could not see an answer. But now he had grown weary of his practice, and so with a heavy sigh, he pulled on his grey cloak and trudged back toward Jabba's palace to put in an appearance as the Hutt's trusted advisor.

Jabba was holding a private meeting when he arrived; the doors to his audience chamber were shut, with armed guards standing at the entrance. _This is strange,_ Anakin thought, instantly growing suspicious. _What is he up to?_

There was only one way to find out. Quietly, he slipped away from the main hallway and entered the narrow, winding passageway that led to the dungeons. He passed by the prison cells and went straight to the Rancor's lair.

"You will let me through this gate," he whispered to the guard who kept watch over Jabba's beloved pet, waving his hand subtly.

The guard nodded obediently, opening the gate. Anakin slipped through, holding out a hand to calm the sleeping Rancor, and entered the pit below Jabba's main audience chamber.

"The crystals are not for sale," Jabba was saying in Huttese. Anakin peered up through the grating, trying to see who he might be talking to; then his blood ran cold as he heard a familiar and decidedly creepy voice.

"Good," the Emperor said with quiet amusement. "As it happens, I did not come here to buy them. What I have to offer you is far better than money."

"Hahahahaa," Jabba laughed. "Nothing is better than money."

"What about... Power?" the Emperor suggested evilly.

"I already have power," Jabba pointed out. "I have the leader of the Galactic Empire crawling to me begging for crystals that he cannot have," he laughed. _That was not smart, Jabba,_ Anakin thought anxiously. _Don't push your luck._ Still, he admired the Hutt's boldness, as well as his ability to resist the Emperor's mental control.

"You are indeed powerful," Palpatine agreed. "More powerful than you even know." _Oh, this is not good._ "You are the wisest of the Hutts, Jabba; but you have so much more potential," the Emperor went on. "There is greatness in you; I can feel your strength. You are powerful in the Dark side of the Force; from across the galaxy I have felt your power growing for weeks now. Join me, Jabba! Join me, and together we will rule the galaxy, as Lords of the Sith!"

_What?_ Anakin blinked in stunned disbelief.

"Rule the galaxy," Jabba mused. "Lord of the Sith... Hmmmmm... Yes, I like it," he decided emphatically. "We have a deal, Sidious," he agreed. "You may have your crystals, if I can rule the galaxy."

_Jabba, no! He's just using you... Don't be stupid..._ But Anakin knew it was already too late.

"Good," Palpatine cackled. "Henceforth you will be known as... _Darth Giganticus,_" he said dramatically.

"Thank you, my Master," Jabba replied, his voice suddenly low and ominous.

"Now, Lord Giganticus," the Emperor continued gleefully. "You will come with me aboard my ship, and bring your precious crystals, and soon our control of the galaxy will be complete!"

"Yes, my Master," Jabba responded automatically. "It shall be as you command."

Shaking his head in profound disbelief, Anakin slipped away from the Rancor's pit, hurrying back up to the main hallway of Jabba's palace. There was no time to think; the crystals were already being loaded aboard the Emperor's ship, and Jabba was slithering heavily up the gangplank when Anakin arrived in the docking bay.

_This is a bad idea,_ Anakin told himself apprehensively, sneaking aboard the ship and hiding in a smuggling compartment just before Palpatine blasted away from Mos Eisley with his precious cargo. _Then again, bad ideas are my specialty._

* * *

><p>Darth Sidious reached out with the Force once again as they left Tatooine's atmosphere. He still found it remarkable that a Hutt could be so strong in the Force; but sure enough, the dark presence was gone from Tatooine, and now he felt it aboard his ship. Incredible as it seemed, Jabba the Hutt was indeed the powerful presence that he had been sensing these past few weeks.<p>

As to how long his new apprentice would last, Palpatine had his doubts. He had his crystals now, and he would give Jabba a chance to prove his value; but he suspected that it would not be long before his search for a worthy apprentice would resume.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Anakin peered down onto the Death Star's dimly-lit throne room from the ventilation duct in the ceiling. The Emperor had retired to his private chambers for the night, and Darth Giganticus was snoring loudly in the corner. The Death Star's sleeping quarters had not been designed for Hutts, so Jabba had taken up residence in the throne room since their arrival two days earlier.

The floor was littered with scraps of food; Jabba and Sidious had apparently been arguing again. _Lucky for me,_ Anakin thought grimly, as he quietly dropped down to the throne room below. He had been hiding in the ventilation ducts for two days now, and had found a way to tap into the cooling system for water, but his only source of food had been his nightly visits to the throne room to raid Jabba's leftovers.

Fortunately Jabba and Anakin had opposite tastes in food; typically the scraps that the Hutt tossed aside were far more appealing to Anakin than the raw meats and live creatures that Jabba greedily hoarded for himself. Anakin munched on a piece of fruit as he collected whatever bits of bread and other edible items he could find. Then, preparing to Force-jump back up into the ventilation duct, he stopped suddenly, reconsidering his plans.

_It is time,_ he realized ruefully. _I have to alert the Senate._ The superlaser would not be finished for two more weeks; but every day that Anakin waited resulted in less time for the residents of Coruscant to plan their evacuation. _They need to know about this now._

He had already figured out a way to destroy the Death Star from the inside. All he had to do was reach the central core, and Palpatine's tyrannical reign would come to a dazzling and abrupt end. Of course, so would Anakin, and Jabba, and about a hundred thousand clone troopers... It was regrettable, but Anakin had already made his mind up, and when the time came, he would not hesitate.

The only problem was actually _reaching_ the central core. The Death Star's outer structure was not yet completed, but the clones were working round the clock on the ventilation system, and it was possible that in another week Anakin might be able to crawl through to the center. Otherwise, he would have to either fight his way past an entire legion of clone troopers in the docking bay to steal a TIE fighter, or somehow leap across the giant gap of nothingness that led to the central core, praying that he would land on the tiny service access ladder instead of crashing straight into the fiery reactor, or even worse, missing it completely and floating off into space. All of these options were extremely risky, and if he failed, there would be no one left to warn the Senate of Palpatine's attack.

Of course there _was_ one other way, he knew; but he had reluctantly decided against confronting Sidious directly. Anakin would have loved nothing more than to kill Palpatine in hand-to-hand combat as he had dreamed of doing for the past six months; but he regretfully admitted that his chances were not good, and millions of lives were at stake if he failed. Even if he succeeded, that still left the problem of Jabba, the clone troopers, and the Death Star... No, his best hope of success was to blow the whole thing up and be done with it.

But in case he failed even in that, he had to find a way to warn the Senate so that they could begin planning their evacuation. Anakin had been thinking it over for days now, and had decided it was too risky to contact Organa again; the Senator had not responded to his previous message, so this time Anakin would have to try a different method. He had thought of several different ways to alert the Senate, and none of them were good; so in the end he decided to go with the one that he thought would get the most attention.

Taking a deep breath and summoning his courage, Anakin approached the Emperor's holograph platform and proceeded to transmit his message, whispering quietly so as not to wake Jabba and desperately hoping that this idea was not a complete disaster.

* * *

><p>Senator Organa was working in his private office adjacent to Coruscant's Senate hall when he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he said courteously, standing up and going to the door to greet his visitor.<p>

The door opened quietly, and Senator Binks of Naboo tip-toed inside, eyes wide with fright as he quickly closed the door behind him.

"Jar Jar," Organa smiled warmly, welcoming him inside. Then he saw his expression, and became alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Mesa get a secret message," Jar Jar said, quaking with fear as he handed Organa a portable transmitter. "Mesa bery scared, not-a knowing what to do," he admitted, shaking his head nervously. "Mesa come straight to you, not telling anybody else," he promised.

Deeply concerned, Organa played back the transmission, then listened in shocked horror as the shadowy grey-cloaked figure whispered his ominous message.

* * *

><p>Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the floor of his cave in deep meditation. Over the past three days his ability to focus had steadily grown stronger, and a few times he was certain that he had sensed his old Master's presence. He felt it again now, and smiled, his heart filling with a comforting warmth that he had not felt in over thirteen years.<p>

"Hello, Obi-Wan," came Qui-Gon's familiar voice, kindly and wise.

"Master Qui-Gon!" Obi-Wan smiled happily. He kept his eyes closed; he did not want to risk losing contact.

"You will go to the Dagobah system," Qui-Gon instructed him. "There you will find Yoda."

_I know Yoda is on Dagobah; why is he saying that?_ "Yes, Master Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan explained patiently. "We are both in hiding; it is too dangerous for us to be together right now." _He must think we're lost... That was so kind of him to tell me._

Obi-Wan smiled blissfully, happy to be talking with his old Master again; but then his concentration was broken by the sound of a speeder approaching outside his cave entrance. _Anakin, not now,_ he sighed in frustration; but Qui-Gon's presence was gone, and Obi-Wan got up to greet his visitor. _Wait a minute... This isn't a dream,_ he realized, suddenly alarmed. _This is real._

It wasn't Anakin; it was Owen Lars, and he looked deeply troubled. _Luke. Something has happened to Luke._"Hello," Obi-Wan said politely, though he could not hide his worried expression. _He wouldn't have come here unless something was very wrong._

"Hello," Owen said uncomfortably, then got straight to the point. "I got another encrypted transmission from Organa," he explained reluctantly. "It's a Code Red." He shrugged, almost apologetic. "I'll give you a ride into Mos Eisley if you like," he added gruffly.

_Code Red!_ It was their pre-arranged signal in case of extreme emergency: Obi-Wan was to immediately find Yoda on Dagobah and then meet up at the rebel base. _That's what Qui-Gon was trying to tell me!_ "Thank you, Owen," he nodded gratefully, quickly pulling on his boots and grabbing his cloak and lightsaber; then they left the cave together and sped toward Mos Eisley.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Obi-Wan and Yoda arrived at the secret rebel base in their new Lambda-class Imperial shuttle. Obi-Wan had been fortunate enough to find it at a seedy-looking used vehicle dealership on the outskirts of Mos Eisley; it had cost him twenty thousand credits, but Imperial vessels were hard to come by, and it was well worth the cost. The dealer had even thrown in a clone trooper uniform for free; doubtless the disguise would come in handy for the rebels at some point.<p>

"Welcome, Master Kenobi, and Master Yoda," Captain Antilles said, greeting them at the entrance to the rebel base and inviting them inside. "It is good to see you; I am relieved that you could come."

"We came as quickly as we could," Obi-Wan assured him, bowing his head respectfully. "What has happened?" he asked, concerned.

"We have received a terrorist threat," Antilles explained, as they walked through the hallway to the makeshift council chamber. "The message was sent to Senator Binks; he and Senator Organa are the only ones who know of its existence at this point. They have remained on Coruscant for the time being, and our communication has been limited; but Organa sent a copy of the transmission.

"The terrorist's name is Fu-kyu'p al Putin," Antilles continued. "We have traced his operations to Tatooine; perhaps you have heard of him?" he asked Obi-Wan.

_Lord Putin,_ Obi-Wan realized, alarmed. "Yes, I know of him," he said. "He is Jabba's new advisor; some say he is the true crime lord on Tatooine now." He looked at Captain Antilles, puzzled. "What was his first name again?"

"Fu-kyu'p," Antilles grinned ruefully, shaking his head. "Fu-kyu'p al Putin. Yes, we have been thinking the same thing," he agreed. "There is no record of that identity previous to his recent alliance with Jabba the Hutt; but clearly he is a man of great influence on the outer rim. Our guess is that the Empire's recent expansion has encroached on his operations, and he is threatening to blow up Coruscant in retaliation."

"Blow up Coruscant?" Obi-Wan asked, alarmed. "Didn't Organa receive a similar warning three weeks ago?"

"Yes," Antilles concurred. "It was an untraceable communication from an anonymous informant, claiming that Palpatine was planning an attack on the Senate," he said. "But the message was encrypted, and we realize now that the name must have been mistranslated: our anonymous informant was warning us of _al Putin_, not Palpatine," he theorized.

Obi-Wan nodded, deeply concerned by the news. Lord Putin was regarded with a mixture of fear and respect by the people who worked for him; he did not seem the type to make idle threats. "Do we have any proof of his claims?" Obi-Wan asked.

"We traced his transmission to the Xandari system, and our scouts have found his base of operations. It is a massive battle station; the outer hull does not appear to be finished, but Putin claims that it will be fully operational in two weeks' time."

"Wait... He said that?" Obi-Wan asked, as he and Yoda shared a puzzled look. _What kind of terrorist gives a two week warning?_

"Yes," Captain Antilles said, "I found that odd too. Here; you can listen for yourself," he said, playing back the transmission.

Obi-Wan recognized the grey-cloaked figure from the cantina on Tatooine, though he still could not see his face beneath the hood. _"My name is Fu-kyu'p al Putin,"_ the man whispered ominously. _"I am constructing a battle station with enough fire power to destroy an entire planet. It will be completed in two weeks' time, and my first target will be Coruscant. Your pathetic fleet is useless against me; do not even attempt to come near or you will be destroyed. Nothing can stop me now!"_ he whispered dramatically. Then, seemingly as an afterthought, he added, _"Hahahahaaa,"_ before reaching a hand out and switching off the transmission.

Obi-Wan and Yoda stared at each other in confusion. What kind of a terrorist threat was that? "You said you were able to trace the transmission?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes, he didn't even bother to encrypt it," Antilles confirmed. Then he shook his head, laughing regretfully. "Clearly the man is not quite all there," he agreed. "Still, we believe the threat to be real," he finished quietly.

Obi-Wan nodded; but something else puzzled him. "The message was sent to Jar Jar Binks?" he asked.

"Yes," Antilled nodded. "We haven't been able to make much sense of that either. Perhaps it is because Senator Binks was the one who originally proposed granting Palpatine additional powers three years ago," he suggested.

"But why send a warning at all?" Obi-Wan asked. "He didn't even make any demands." It didn't make sense. By all accounts Putin was a man of great secrecy, and had managed to construct a massive battle station without being noticed; why would he suddenly become sloppy at the last moment, and jeopardize his entire plan with such an obscure threat?

Yoda had been lost in thought for the past several minutes, but he opened his eyes now, nodding solemnly at Obi-Wan.

"That's not a terrorist threat," Obi-Wan realized suddenly, alarmed. "It's a warning."

Yoda sighed sadly. "A warning it is," he agreed.

"Palpatine has been planning to destroy the Senate all along," Obi-Wan said, eyes widening as he realized the implications. _This is even worse than a terrorist threat._ "Fu-kyu'p al Putin is our anonymous informant!"

"The informant he is," Yoda concurred. "Though clouded, his motives are," he mused thoughtfully. "Heed his warning, we will. Useless the rebel fleet is, against the Emperor's battle station." He sighed with deep sadness, then looked up at Obi-Wan. "Defeat Sidious, we must," he said quietly. "But strong enough we are not..." His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes painfully as his ears drooped downwards.

"The last stand of the Jedi, I fear this will be."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_This is it,_ Anakin thought grimly as he crawled through the ventilation duct toward the Death Star's central core. The alarm had sounded; he guessed that the Emperor had finally received word of his transmission two days earlier, and was alerted to his presence. A hundred thousand clone troopers would soon be out looking for him, and Anakin knew that he had to act now, before he was discovered.

He had expected this to happen; he had sent the transmission unencrypted, and it could be easily traced back to the Death Star. He imagined that Jar Jar Binks would have immediately run yelling through the entire city of Coruscant, warning everyone to evacuate. It was the result Anakin had hoped for, and he was actually a bit surprised that it had taken two days for the news to reach Palpatine.

Anakin knew he should not have waited this long to act, but every time he had thought about doing it, he had found a reason not to. For one thing, the ventilation system was not even close to being complete; he would have to jump across a huge gap of open space to reach the central core, and his aim had to be perfect. Then he would have to quickly climb down to the reactor and focus intensely, using the Force - along with his lightsaber - to overheat the reactor. All of this would have to be done in outer space, without any kind of breathing apparatus. There was no room for error, and there would be no turning back once he made that leap.

But finally the time had come, and Anakin could delay no longer. _At least I'll be using my new lightsaber to kill him,_ he consoled himself, as he crawled over the throne room. Then, hearing a commotion below, he peered down through the grating, curious.

Jabba was napping in the corner as usual; he was accustomed to non-stop entertainment in his audience chamber back on Tatooine, and had been bored out of his mind since becoming Palpatine's apprentice. So he had taken to sleeping most of the time, when he wasn't eating, or throwing food at Sidious in a vain bid for power.

Suddenly the Emperor entered the throne room; but it was not done in his usual dignified and stately manner. Instead, he came flying through the doorway backwards and slammed violently against the wall, collapsing unceremoniously onto the floor. A moment later Yoda appeared in the doorway, followed closely by Obi-Wan.

Anakin smiled despite himself. It was good to see them, and even more entertaining to watch Palpatine getting clobbered. _Change of plans,_ he decided regretfully; he couldn't very well blow up the Death Star with the last of the Jedi on board. He was torn between the strong desire to remain hidden and avoid being seen by Obi-Wan and Yoda, and the even stronger desire to join in the fight against Sidious. For the moment the Jedi seemed to have the upper hand, so Anakin stayed put, grinning quietly as he enjoyed the spectacle below.

* * *

><p>Obi-Wan clashed lightsabers with Palpatine, matching him blow for blow and driving him backwards across the throne room. His job today was to tire the Emperor out as much as possible before the fight escalated into deadly shock bolts which only Yoda could deflect. It had been months since he'd been in a good lightsaber duel, and despite the danger he had to admit he was enjoying the adrenaline rush.<p>

His last duel had been against Anakin, and it had been terrible. He and Anakin used to practice together every day; they knew all the same moves, and could predict each other's strategies to the point where they were able to fight at full speed without any real danger of hurting each other. Even that night on Mustafar, they had only been playing half the time, though Anakin's anger had been real enough.

One of their favorite games had always been to place the palms of their hands together and see how far they could throw each other; it was an idiotic practice that had no value in an actual fight, and the fact that Anakin had played along in the command center had given Obi-Wan hope that perhaps he was not completely lost.

But something had gone terribly wrong during their final confrontation. Obi-Wan had jumped up onto the bank, certain that Anakin would realize that the battle was over and hopefully come to his senses; but to his horror, Anakin had jumped high into the air, executing an ancient Jedi tactic that neither of them had ever practiced before, as the only possible result was death to both opponents.

Obi-Wan knew that the proper defense to such an attack was to hold his own lightsaber straight upward, skewering Anakin through the chest as he came down; whereupon Anakin's dead weight would continue to drive his own lightsaber through Obi-Wan's chest as well, killing both of them instantly. But Obi-Wan couldn't do it. Instead, he had swung sideways with all his might, hoping to deflect Anakin's lightsaber and throw him to the side.

It all happened so fast; Obi-Wan still didn't know exactly what went wrong, but somehow he had missed Anakin's lightsaber completely and sliced through both his legs and his left arm as well, before he even realized what was happening. He'd had nightmares of that horrifying moment for the past six months; thinking of it now made him feel sick to his stomach, and he pushed the terrible memory aside, focusing once more on his duel against Palpatine.

Palpatine's fighting style could only be described as pure evil. His moves had none of the grace of the Jedi; they were spiteful and cowardly, but they had a deadly intensity, and Obi-Wan was beginning to tire. Sensing his exhaustion, Yoda joined in with his own tiny lightsaber, distracting the Emperor from the other side.

Then the shocks began, and Obi-Wan braced himself, deflecting a massive amount of current with his blue lightsaber as Yoda tossed his little green one aside, countering the Emperor's attack bare-handed. Sidious cackled in delight, zapping them cruelly with bolts of lightning. Obi-Wan did what he could to divert some of the current, but he knew that his own part in this battle would soon be over.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of something overhead: a shadowy, grey-cloaked figure was vaulting down from the ceiling, his red lightsaber humming to life as he somersaulted through the air. _Putin!_ Obi-Wan's heart pounded as he finally realized the truth: Lord Putin wasn't a terrorist, or an informant; he was the Emperor's new Sith apprentice! His cryptic message had been a trap to lure the rebels out of hiding, thus destroying the Jedi along with the Senate... And they had fallen for it.

_"Putin!"_ he warned Yoda urgently, as the grey shadow rapidly advanced upon them. Yoda nodded painfully, bracing himself to absorb twice the current as Obi-Wan tore his lightsaber away from the Emperor and spun around to face Putin. He knew he must deal with this quickly; Yoda would not be able to hold off the Emperor for long by himself.

Obi-Wan immediately launched into his most violent and deadly assault against the grey-cloaked Sith, striking at him mercilessly; but Palpatine's new apprentice was well-trained and defended himself effortlessly, almost as if he could predict Obi-Wan's moves. _He did not learn from Sidious,_ Obi-Wan realized suddenly, surprised._He fights like a Jedi._ But not just any Jedi... Obi-Wan felt his blood run cold as he began to realize who he was fighting.

_No. It can't be..._ The shadowy face beneath the hood was badly scarred, but the features were unmistakable; it was like looking at a ghost. _Anakin!_ Staring in shocked disbelief, Obi-Wan took several paces backwards, though he held his lightsaber at the ready.

_He's alive,_ Obi-Wan realized, tears of joy and relief springing to his eyes, though he was still painfully aware of the fact that his former padawan was standing before him wielding a red lightsaber. _He looks well... He's breathing on his own..._ His scars were grievous, but at least he was able to survive without the terrible black mask. Obi-Wan felt a twinge of pride and gratitude to see him looking so well.

"Look out!" Anakin yelled suddenly, an expression of alarm crossing his face as he quickly ducked and rolled to the side. Reacting quickly, Obi-Wan rolled away too, as an enormous red lightsaber crashed between them, twice the length of a man. He looked up to face his new attacker, then stared in open disbelief.

"Haaahaaahaaaa," Jabba laughed, swatting at them gleefully with his giant red lightsaber. Obi-Wan and Anakin dodged his clumsy but deadly blows as Jabba advanced upon them, laughing and babbling dramatically in Huttese.

"Jabba, no!" Anakin said with annoyance, running towards him and wrestling the gigantic lightsaber out of his hand. "He's my friend," he scolded the Hutt impatiently, deactivating the massive lightsaber and tossing it aside.

_Ooops._ Obi-Wan had already buried his own lightsaber into Jabba's massive stomach, right up to the hilt. Jabba began wailing pathetically, howling in pain and blubbering tearfully as green ooze began to seep from the wound. _Should I apologize?_ Obi-Wan wondered momentarily, confused beyond words. _What the blazes is going on here?_

"Look out!" Anakin warned him again urgently, leaping over Jabba's tail and bringing his red lightsaber up to ward off a round of blue shock waves as the Emperor advanced upon them. Yoda lay on the floor, his eyes half-open, panting in utter exhaustion.

_"You!"_ Palpatine hissed, ceasing his attack momentarily as he glared in furious disbelief at the scarred face beneath the hood.

"Me," Anakin confirmed, advancing upon him violently, his red lightsaber swinging in a deadly arc straight toward the Emperor's head. But suddenly he was thrown across the room, crashing painfully into the far wall and falling face-down onto the floor, unconscious.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan yelled, alarmed. But the Emperor was upon him, and all he could do was stand there, bracing himself against an onslaught of evil shock waves and deflecting the current with his lightsaber as best he could. He could not hold it much longer; he felt the current coursing painfully through his body, and he was shaking with exhaustion.

Across the room, he saw Anakin lift his head groggily, then stumble clumsily to his feet. There was a look of deep concern in his blue eyes as he saw what was happening; then his expression turned to unflinching determination as he took a deep breath and advanced upon the Emperor.

He had made it halfway across the throne room before Obi-Wan realized what he was doing. There was a crazed look in his eyes - of pain, anger, and revenge - and suddenly Anakin vaulted high into the air, the hilt of his lightsaber flying up into his hand as he came down upon the Emperor in a deadly but perfect execution of the ancient Jedi tactic he had attempted that tragic night on Mustafar.

"Anakin, no!" Obi-Wan screamed, horrified. But it was too late. Nothing could save him now; Anakin might succeed in his final attack on Palpatine, but he would be instantly electrocuted the moment he landed. "No," Obi-Wan cried again, grief-stricken, his vision blurred by tears as Anakin plummeted to his death.

Obi-Wan watched as the tip of Anakin's red lightsaber pierced through the Emperor's chest; then he was thrown to the ground as a violent burst of thunder and lightning flashed and flickered through the throne room. And then there was darkness.

* * *

><p>Anakin lifted his head up groggily as the last of the blue lightning flickered and went out. He was lying face down on the floor. At least he thought it was the floor; the room was spinning so much, it was hard to tell.<em>Yes, this is the floor,<em> he decided, recognizing the marble design. At least that mystery was solved.

As to how he got there, he was not entirely certain. The last thing he remembered was plummeting down toward the Emperor, activating his lightsaber in mid-air and aiming straight for Palpatine's chest.

It was an ancient Jedi tactic he had only attempted one other time in his life; and that had not gone so well either. He had only been trying to scare Obi-Wan; he needed to get up onto the bank to continue the fight, and knew that Obi-Wan wouldn't actually use the proper defense and skewer him.

As he had predicted, Obi-Wan failed to raise his lightsaber, so at the last second Anakin had retracted his own; but Obi-Wan was already in mid-swing by that point, and it had ended rather badly. Anakin winced at the memory, the stumps of his legs and left arm throbbing painfully. He checked now to make sure all his body parts were still attached.

_Yep... Still there,_ he confirmed, pushing himself off the floor and getting to his hands and knees; then his head throbbed heavily and he lay back down again, rolling onto his side. There was blood on the floor, and he could taste it in his mouth; his nose seared with pain, and he wiped some of the blood from his face with his sleeve.

_But why am I still here at all,_ he wondered, staring blankly at the singed remnants of Palpatine's cloak several yards away. _I should have been electrocuted._ It had been his plan all along; he remembered vaulting into the air, using the Force to summon his lightsaber into his hand...

_Oh yeah._ Anakin felt slightly stupid; it was all coming back to him now. He remembered activating his lightsaber in mid-air, watching as the red tip plunged through Palpatine's chest... His life had flashed before his eyes, and he had been prepared to die; but he had not been prepared for what came next.

Instead of landing on top of Palpatine and being electrocuted in the Emperor's death throes, he had found himself pole-vaulting straight over the Emperor's head, skidding across the room and landing nose-down on the floor. Anakin glanced ruefully at the hilt of the lightsaber that lay beside him. _That's not my lightsaber. That's Jabba's._

_Brilliant,_ he sighed, sitting up and looking around the throne room, assessing the damage. There were unconscious bodies everywhere: Yoda, Jabba, Obi-Wan, Palpatine's cloak... Anakin stumbled to his feet, wiping his bloody nose again, then began checking for pulses. Thankfully Yoda was still alive, and he could hear Jabba's painful wheezing from across the room; he stumbled wearily toward Obi-Wan to make sure he was all right.

Suddenly the door to the hallway flew open, and armed clone troopers began to pour into the throne room. Without thinking, Anakin automatically used the Force to slam the door shut, then threw the intruders against the wall. He knew how to deal with clone troopers; he'd had plenty of experience with this sort of thing.

"What is your identification number," he demanded coldly, pointing toward the leader and ever so slightly squeezing his throat. "And take your mask off," he commanded. "All of you."

Obediently, the clones slowly got to their feet, taking their masks off to reveal identical expressions of uncertainty and fear as they glanced nervously at the inert bodies lying around the room. "My number is 42285," the leader said timidly.

"42285," Anakin said, ignoring his bloody nose as he strode toward them, casually kicking Palpatine's cloak to the side. "I am your new Master now. My name is Darth Putin and you will report directly to me. Is that understood." It was not a question.

"Y-Yes, Lord Putin," 42285 answered.

"Good. You will return to the main docking bay and inform the others of the change in command. Go," he commanded them.

"Yes, my Lord," 42285 replied obediently, leading the other clones back out to the hallway.

Anakin sighed ruefully after they left. _I could have told them anything and they would have believed me,_ he realized. Then he knelt beside Obi-Wan, checking his pulse; it was weak, but he would survive. Anakin sat cross-legged on the floor beside his old Master with his head in his hands, trying to decide what to do next.

_I can't go back,_ he realized sadly. With Palpatine gone, the Senate would undoubtedly vote to restore the Republic, and Anakin would most likely be executed for war crimes. _Not that I really care,_ he reflected; he knew he deserved death for what he'd done, and was not afraid to face it, but another idea was beginning to form in his mind.

_Always two there are,_ Yoda had taught him. Two Sith lords: a master, and an apprentice... Anakin glanced thoughtfully at Jabba's oozing, wheezing form. _As long as it's Giganticus and me..._ He shook his head regretfully, but he knew now what he had to do. _We will be the most pathetic Sith lords this galaxy has ever known. And the Jedi will be safe._

Sighing, Anakin got up and went to the window of the throne room to see what was going on outside the Death Star. Palpatine's Imperial Star Destroyer was floating off into space, its hull a blackened, charred ruin; Anakin didn't even want to know what happened there. But in the distance he saw a small, ragged fleet of rebel ships...

"This is Darth Putin," he announced over the transmitter, using an open frequency so the rebel fleet could hear him. "Do not attempt to come near or you will be destroyed. I have taken over the command of this battle station; the attack on Coruscant has been called off. I have defeated Palpatine and taken the Jedi as prisoners, but I will return them to you under the condition that you leave this system immediately."

A moment later Antilles responded. "Yes, Lord Putin," he said nervously. "We agree to your terms."

"Good," Anakin said. "I will be sending them in my personal escape pod; they are both in need of immediate medical attention. You shall have them back momentarily."

Returning to Obi-Wan's side, he carefully gathered his old Master's unconscious form in his arms and carried him to the nearby escape pod, strapping him securely into one of the seats; then he did the same for Yoda._Goodbye, my friends,_ he thought sadly, locking the door and sending the pod out toward the rebel fleet. _And may the Force be with you._

Anakin watched from the window as the escape pod was safely retrieved by the rebel fleet; then he turned his attention to his new apprentice. "Well, Jabba," he said gently, examining his wound and deciding that he would live; "I guess it's just you and me now." Sighing regretfully, he hung his head and patted the Hutt on the shoulder. "Let's go home."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Two months later..._

"He's beautiful," Padme cried, tears of joy filling her eyes as she held Luke for the first time since the day he was born. She stroked his soft, curly baby hair and looked into his dark blue eyes, the rims of his irises the color of midnight. "He looks so much like - " she broke off tearfully, shaking her head. "He's beautiful," she whispered again, smiling happily. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

"He will be safer here with you now," Obi-Wan said gently, holding Leia on his lap. "They have both grown since I last saw them," he added affectionately, smiling as Leia looked up at him curiously with her big brown eyes.

"It's so good to have him back," Padme said, smiling blissfully and kissing Luke on the forehead. "I've missed him so much," she cried wistfully, hugging him close against her chest. Padme was dressed simply as always, disguised as a servant in the Organa household; she would still have to remain in hiding, but she seemed to be handling it well. "So you don't think this new - Darth Putin - will take an interest in them?" she asked, her expression guarded but hopeful.

"No, I don't think so," Obi-Wan reassured her gently. Only a handful of people within the rebel alliance knew of Lord Putin's true identity, and they had reluctantly decided not to burden Padme with that knowledge for the time being. She had nearly died of heartbreak when Anakin had first turned to the Dark side; but Senator Organa felt that in the weeks since Vader's alleged death she had finally begun to move past her grief. It would be too cruel to dredge up those painful feelings again for no good reason.

Obi-Wan himself was still reeling from the shock of this recent turn of events; he was torn between relief and gratitude to know that Anakin was alive and well, and the bitter anguish of still not being able to save him from the Dark side. But in some ways it was working out for the best; with Putin and Giganticus based on Tatooine, it didn't make sense to keep Luke there any longer, and so Obi-Wan had brought him here to Alderaan to be with Padme and Leia and his new adoptive parents.

"Putin and Giganticus seem to be content with their operations on the outer rim," Obi-Wan assured her. "So far they have not expressed any interest in politics, or dealings with the interior." It was true; Anakin and Jabba had returned to Tatooine after the battle aboard the Death Star, and thus far it seemed their evil agenda was to become fabulously wealthy and turn Mos Eisley into a tourist trap with luxury hotels, resorts and spas, and of course gambling casinos, which would be the main source of their profits.

Padme nodded gratefully, apparently content with that knowledge, and Obi-Wan reassured himself that they had made the right decision in not telling her about Anakin. She had been through so much these past eight months, and truly seemed happier believing that Anakin was dead, rather than living in constant fear of him and having to come to terms with his betrayal.

_I almost envy her,_ Obi-Wan thought regretfully, as he smiled and waved goodbye to Padme and the children a few hours later. Returning to his ship, he found a light blinking on the transmitter. _Another message from His Sithiness,_ Obi-Wan smiled ruefully, pushing the button and reading the latest encrypted message from Anakin.

_I'm bored. Where are you?_

Obi-Wan shook his head, laughing at the absurdity of this new game they had been playing since the Death Star incident two months ago. Anakin's latest hobby, when he wasn't building casinos and resorts on Tatooine, was to track down Obi-Wan wherever he happened to be, and suddenly show up unannounced, red lightsaber swinging, challenging him to a duel on the spot.

In the beginning he had used great stealth, and Obi-Wan had never seen him coming; but lately he had gotten lazy, simply asking Obi-Wan when it might be convenient to schedule a fight. Even then, his first messages had been full of veiled threats and specific grievances; but apparently now being bored was sufficient reason to wage war on the Jedi.

Yoda did not approve of this inane practice, but neither did he forbid it; so Obi-Wan had played along, fighting Anakin whenever he could fit it into his schedule, between rebuilding the Jedi Temple, dealing with Senate matters as the Republic was restored, and searching the galaxy for new younglings to train. Anakin had made a good show of thwarting his efforts at every turn, but in reality it only amounted to the two of them clashing lightsabers once a week or so.

Obi-Wan switched off the transmitter, shaking his head ruefully. He would get back to Anakin later, once he was safely away from Alderaan. _At least he doesn't know where I am,_ he consoled himself. It had taken him two months to finally retrieve Luke from Tatooine; he knew that Anakin was likely to sense his presence if he went there, so he and Yoda had been watching him carefully, waiting for the right moment.

Anakin generally didn't bother to mask his presence when he was on Tatooine, but three days ago they had felt it grow weak and then vanish completely, and Obi-Wan had made his move. He was actually glad to receive Anakin's transmission today; he was beginning to worry that something had happened to him.

_He's probably aboard the Death Star,_ Obi-Wan guessed, reminding himself once again how very wrong it was for a Jedi to be concerned for the health and safety of a Sith lord. Their weekly lightsaber duels were more for practice than anything else, but the Death Star was a real threat. Not only did Anakin now control the entire clone army, but he was also in possession of the most powerful weapon ever built.

So far he had not used it, but Obi-Wan suspected that Anakin was up to more than he was letting on. Over the past two months they had been exchanging encrypted messages almost daily, and although Anakin's transmissions always seemed belligerent on the surface, Obi-Wan had found that if he read between the lines, Anakin was essentially informing the Jedi of his own activities and warning them of other potentially dangerous situations on the outer rim. But when it came to news of the Death Star, Anakin had remained ominously silent, and Obi-Wan worried what he was up to.

_Maybe Yoda is right,_ Obi-Wan admitted reluctantly. _Maybe his ineptitude is only an act, to keep us off guard._ Obi-Wan agreed that Anakin was firmly immersed in the Dark side, using his powers for selfish purposes and weighed down by feelings of bitterness, grief, pain, and despair; but he and Yoda had differing theories as to his apparent disinterest in ruling the galaxy.

Yoda believed that the casino operation on Tatooine was a diversion, and that Anakin was only toying with Obi-Wan and using his friendship to keep tabs on the Jedi; he was just biding his time until the Death Star was completed, at which point he would make his move. But Obi-Wan wanted desperately to believe that Anakin's friendship was real.

_Not that it really is much of a friendship,_ he realized sadly. It was stupid, but Obi-Wan actually enjoyed Anakin's messages, laughing at his overly pompous boasts of power and his dramatic threats of war on the Jedi which resulted in their weekly lightsaber duels. But that was the extent of their relationship; Obi-Wan had tried talking to Anakin about more personal matters, but had found that the harder he pushed, the more distant Anakin became, and so he had learned to back off and give Anakin his space.

_He is no different than he ever was,_ Obi-Wan smiled wistfully. As a Jedi, Anakin had always struggled to control his darker emotions, and Obi-Wan sensed that as a Sith he was equally unable to give up feelings of friendship and love. _He hovers between darkness and light, and does not truly belong on either side._

Yoda had objected to Anakin's training from the start, sensing that he had too much darkness in him; but Obi-Wan had shared Qui-Gon's hope that Anakin might be the Chosen One who would bring balance to the Force. After Mustafar, Obi-Wan had sadly admitted that Yoda had been right all along, but now he was beginning to wonder. With his focus on material wealth rather than political power, Anakin seemed to be destroying the Sith legacy just as effectively as he had destroyed the Jedi. In a strange way, he actually _had_ brought balance to the Force, by destroying both sides equally. _Perhaps he truly was the Chosen One. And the ancient prophecy was just a cruel galactic joke._

But whatever he was - Sith, Jedi, or Chosen One - Anakin was a friend. Obi-Wan had been speaking with Qui-Gon more often these days, and was beginning to trust in the Living Force. He still shared Yoda's concern regarding Anakin's control of the Death Star, but despite the potential danger, his heart told him that there was no cause for alarm. _He is the same person he always was. There is still good in him, just as there was always too much darkness... He is my friend, and I love him._

Obi-Wan sighed sadly, turning his attention back to the transmitter. He would soon be approaching Coruscant, and Alderaan was safely behind him. Smiling wistfully, he typed his response to Anakin's message.

_Jedi Temple. Tomorrow. High noon._

There was so much more he wished he could say; but there were rules to this childish game of Sith vs. Jedi, and Obi-Wan knew that if he wanted to see his friend at all, he must allow Anakin to play his part.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_A few months later..._

Anakin grinned smugly as he emerged from his new starship, _Sith I,_ inside the docking bay of the Jedi Temple. _Sith I_ had the sleek design of a Nubian vessel, with the maneuverability of a Jedi starfighter, the fastest hyperdrive in the galaxy, an extravagantly luxurious interior, and far more weaponry than was legal for a ship of its class. Anakin had designed it himself, and it was his new pride and joy.

_It's good being rich,_ he decided, pulling down the hood of his cloak as he strode arrogantly into the Jedi Temple to meet Obi-Wan in single combat. He was not expected today, which made it all the more fun.

He was dressed all in black, as always, but today he was wearing new boots; he had bought them a week earlier, and they had been insanely expensive, but they were much trendier than the old ones, and well worth the cost. His black cloak was also new, made from an exotic blend of materials, and it was just the perfect weight: not too light and not too heavy; he liked the way it swished behind him when he walked. Anakin was looking good, and he knew it.

He'd had his scars fixed a couple months ago. The doctors had done what they could, but the faded scar across his cheek was still noticeable, and Anakin had decided he liked it that way. Being a Sith lord required a certain image: if you were too pretty, no one took you seriously, and a scar could give you an air of danger that was useful for intimidation. His hair had grown long and thick also, and Anakin had to admit he was impressed with the latest styling products he was trying; they controlled the curl and kept it looking shiny and perfect all day long.

It was great to not have such horrible burn scars all over his body. They had been painful and uncomfortable; his skin still didn't look entirely perfect but it felt much nicer, and he had taken to indulging himself in daily massages and spa treatments at his new resort on Tatooine. He'd even been fitted with all new mechanical limbs; they were lighter and stronger, and covered in a synthetic material that looked and felt exactly like human skin. It was truly remarkable; sometimes he forgot that they weren't real.

Anakin hadn't intended to come here today, but he had other business on the interior, and figured that since he was in the neighborhood, he might as well stop by. Yoda and Obi-Wan were in the Council chamber; he could feel their presence strongly. It angered him: they could surely feel his as well, yet they had made no attempt to stop him from invading their Temple.

_They have grown complacent,_ Anakin thought contemptuously. _In the old days we would never have allowed a Sith lord to walk right in the front door._ Part of him wondered if it wasn't laziness on their part, but rather a complete lack of fear; but he convinced himself once again of his unquestionable superiority. _I have gotten better at masking my presence,_ he decided. _They don't even know I'm here._ Smiling evilly, he burst into the Council chamber and advanced upon Obi-Wan, his red lightsaber humming to life.

"Anakin, not now," Obi-Wan sighed with annoyance. "We're in the middle of a meeting."

"Too bad," Anakin replied, swinging straight for his head. His thumb was on the power switch just in case, but luckily Obi-Wan reacted quickly, rolling to the floor and activating his blue lightsaber. They fought for a few minutes in the Council chamber, leaping from seat to seat and avoiding Yoda, who, after shaking his head in disgust, had lapsed into deep meditation.

"I'm serious, Anakin," Obi-Wan insisted, spinning around and meeting Anakin's lightsaber in mid-swing, throwing him across the room. "I don't have time for this right now."

_Crap. How did he do that? I am so out of practice._ "All right," Anakin said dangerously, glaring at him from the doorway. "But this is not over," he threatened, pointing a finger ominously at Obi-Wan.

"No, I didn't imagine it was," Obi-Wan agreed mildly. He had that regretful, apologetic look in his eyes; Anakin knew he'd better leave before Obi-Wan tried to lure him into a conversation. Giving him his best glare, Anakin turned and stormed from the Council chamber, his black cloak trailing elegantly behind him.

_Well that sucked,_ Anakin decided angrily, climbing back into the cockpit of _Sith I_ and blasting away from Coruscant. He didn't want to admit it, but he was beginning to notice that his fighting skills were starting to go downhill since he'd stopped practicing every day. _A Sith lord shouldn't have to practice,_ he told himself stubbornly. _Practicing is for padawans._

But he'd been so busy with everything lately, there had been no time. The casino business was going well, but with new hotels and resorts opening every week, Anakin had been working round the clock to make sure that everything ran smoothly.

Jabba had been no help at all lately. Hutts were hermaphroditic, and at the height of all their business dealings, Jabba had managed to get himself pregnant, and he - _no, she_ - had been a blubbering, hormonal mess for the past five months. Anakin still had trouble thinking of Jabba as being female, but technically she was, at least until the baby was born. Her mood swings had been out of control, and her food cravings... Anakin shuddered, not wanting to think about it.

_We are just a joke,_ Anakin sighed ruefully, as he sped toward Alderaan on his next errand. He was getting the feeling more and more these days that no one took the new Sith lords seriously; especially not anyone on the interior. Anakin was not interested in gaining political control the way that Palpatine had, but the Senate didn't even seem to fear him at all. It was insulting.

_I have to do something about that,_ Anakin decided. _But what?_ It would have to be something relatively simple and direct; something that would get the Senate's attention, without requiring too much work on his part. He was coming up on Alderaan now, and an idea suddenly came to him.

_Organa,_ he remembered. He had never replied to Anakin's very first message warning the Senate of Palpatine's attack. _He was probably loyal to Sidious the whole time,_ Anakin realized angrily. On his last visit to Alderaan he had heard on the local news that Senator Organa and his wife had recently adopted twin babies... _That would get their attention,_ Anakin mused thoughtfully.

_No,_ he decided, dismissing the idea. Kidnapping was for common criminals, not Sith lords. And if word of it got out, it would be bad for business; he and Giganticus were thinking of opening a more family-oriented theme park, and parents were not likely to bring their kids to Jabba World if they knew it was run by a known kidnapper. _Besides,_ Anakin decided ruefully, _What would I do with two babies? They would probably spit up all over my nice new cloak._

Sighing, he touched down at his destination, and parked _Sith I_ in the docking bay of Alderaan's most prestigious hospital. His errand today was not a pleasant one, and he dreaded what the doctors would undoubtedly tell him. Over the past few months Anakin had visited all the best medical facilities in the galaxy, hoping against hope that someone might be able to help him; but he knew now that nothing more could be done, and as he took a seat in the hospital's waiting area, he hung his head sadly, accepting the truth.

"Mr. Putin?" a nurse asked with gentle kindness, and Anakin nodded, following her to a private room. "Please have a seat; the doctor will meet with you shortly," she assured him, with a sorrowful, compassionate look. Anakin thanked her, then sat down, sighing regretfully. He could tell the news would not be good.

A few minutes later the doctor came in. "Mr. Putin," he said warmly, shaking his hand, then taking a seat across from him. "I'm afraid I have bad news," he said quietly. "The blood tests we took last week..." Anakin zoned out, pretending to listen. He didn't fully understand the medical details, but he could tell that the bottom line would be the same as always.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Putin," the doctor finished. "There is nothing more we can do." Anakin nodded sadly; then, thanking the doctor, he left the private consultation room and walked dejectedly toward the intensive care unit.

The emaciated figure that lay on the hospital bed was barely recognizable. His dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with a feverish sweat, and his face, once a healthy bronze color, was now deathly pale. He had lapsed into a coma two days ago, and his hollow rib cage rose and fell unnaturally with the aid of a mechanical respirator. Anakin did not need a medical expert to tell him that 42285 was dying.

It was the same for the dozens of other clones Anakin had taken to various hospitals throughout the galaxy, as well as the thousands more who remained aboard the Death Star. Since Palpatine's death, the clones had grown weaker by the day, and Anakin had been searching the galaxy for a cure to their mysterious illness, to no avail.

He had first become aware of the problem shortly after the Death Star incident. 42285 had fearfully approached Anakin, reminding him that it was time for their monthly injections. That's when Anakin had learned that he had not been the only victim of Palpatine's evil misuse of drugs; apparently Sidious had been giving the clones some kind of mysterious injections, and without it, they were becoming sick and weak. At first Anakin had thought that as in his case, once the initial effects wore off, the clones would start to feel better and recover their strength; but their health had steadily deteriorated over the past several months, and many of them had died already.

_I wish I hadn't squeezed his throat,_ Anakin thought regretfully, looking down at the fragile figure that lay before him and remembering their first encounter. "Goodbye, 42285," he whispered, holding his hand gently; then with a sad sigh, he turned and went back out to the docking bay.

The clones would all be dead within months, he knew. Anakin was heartbroken over this turn of events, and he was glad that after his initial takeover, he had generally treated them well. He had abolished the use of helmets and armor except in battle situations, and had provided them with more comfortable work clothes while they continued with the Death Star's construction.

The whole situation had been a giant headache for Anakin. The Death Star had been Palpatine's idea, and Anakin had quickly realized that he had no use for such a massive battle station, or the clone troopers for that matter. But he also knew that it would be a disaster if they fell into the wrong hands. Anakin had been careful never to mention the Death Star to Obi-Wan; technically it was the property of the Republic, and if the Jedi learned of its whereabouts, it would be their duty to capture it. Anakin knew that the Senate would not be able to control such a dangerous weapon, so it was up to him to keep it safely hidden.

He had thought about finding another use for the Death Star, such as converting it into a giant mobile casino with luxurious accommodations that would bring a little bit of Mos Eisley to the rest of the galaxy. Anakin had even thought of rearranging the crystals to make a flashy laser show to attract customers; but unfortunately Krylosian crystals only had one use, and would end up frying any ship that came within a thousand yards, which would not be good for business.

Then there was the problem of the clones. Anakin had thought of using them as dealers for the casino, and had tried teaching them the basics of gambling; but unfortunately they were among the most gullible, weak-minded beings in the galaxy, and he quickly realized that employing them as casino dealers would be a financial disaster.

But none of that mattered now, he realized sadly, as he departed from Alderaan aboard _Sith I_. The clones would soon be dead, and Anakin's dream of a giant floating casino would never become a reality. Jabba wanted nothing to do with the project; she had unpleasant memories of her time aboard the Death Star, what with the utter boredom, the projectile food fights with Sidious, and in the end being stabbed by Obi-Wan...

_Damn,_ Anakin remembered. He had meant to pick up some groceries on Alderaan; he'd found that Jabba was much easier to deal with these days if she had a wide assortment of exotic delicacies to choose from. _Oh well... Corellia will have to do,_ he decided, setting a course for the next planet on his route home.

Three hours later, as he loaded five hundred pounds of groceries onto the ten-items-or-less checkout counter while ignoring the angry glares from the other customers in line, Anakin wondered if being a Sith lord was really worth all the trouble it seemed to entail.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Three months later..._

Jabba was worried about Fooo-kyooo.

They were celebrating the grand opening of _The Galaxy_, their largest hotel and casino ever; the best bands on Tatooine were playing, and a huge feast had been prepared, but Fooo-kyooo had barely touched his food. They had both had been looking forward to this event for months: ruling _The Galaxy_ had been their dream from the very beginning, and with the opening of this newest establishment, they had finally achieved their goal. But Fooo-kyooo just sat there quietly, staring at nothing; he could not possibly look less enthusiastic about the evening's festivities.

"Is the Nylog not good?" Jabba asked him, concerned. Fooo-kyooo had never been a big eater, but tonight he had barely tasted his food. Jabba was disappointed; he had specially asked his cooks to prepare all of Fooo-kyooo's favorite things.

"It's delicious," Fooo-kyooo assured him, with a sad smile. "I'm just not really hungry right now," he apologized quietly, shrugging. Then he continued to stare absently at one of the female dancers. She had long dark hair, braided down the back; the girl was far too small and scrawny for Jabba's tastes, but Fooo-kyooo seemed to be fascinated with her.

"You want her?" he asked hopefully. He had been trying for months to find a suitable companion for his master. Fooo-kyooo had never shown any interest in the female dancers who performed every night, and Jabba had wondered if perhaps he might prefer men, or aliens; but Fooo-kyooo had turned them all down.

There had even been a brief time during Jabba's pregnancy when he himself had found Fooo-kyooo attractive, especially after he'd had his scars fixed. The feelings had passed since then, but Jabba realized that his initial impression of Fooo-kyooo had been wrong; he was really not so bad-looking, for a human. But Fooo-kyooo was not even interested in Jabba, and so he had decided that his master was truly hopeless when it came to romantic relationships. Still, there was a wistful look in his eyes tonight as he watched this dark-haired dancer.

"No," Fooo-kyooo replied with a faint smile, shaking his head. "She just - she reminds me of someone, that's all," he admitted quietly. Jabba nodded. If they were back in his private audience chamber, he would have sent the girl down to the Rancor, although he was starting to suspect that Fooo-kyooo disapproved of that practice. He often would jump down into the pit to rescue the victims himself; it was slightly embarrassing, but Jabba had learned to put up with his master's bizarre behavior.

"Would you like to hold Wormy?" he offered. It was one of the few things that brought a smile to his master's face these days. Fooo-kyooo had suggested the name, explaining that it was reminiscent a mythological creature both feared and respected among humans. Jabba thought it sounded exotic and sophisticated; it was the perfect name for his son. Fooo-kyooo was a true friend.

"Sure," Fooo-kyooo smiled, and Jabba pulled Wormy out of his pouch, handing him to his master. Fooo-kyooo held Wormy in the palm of his hand, grinning affectionately as he patted him on the head with one finger. Wormy blinked at him with his big yellow eyes; he was only three weeks old, but already he was quite taken with his Uncle Fooo-kyooo.

Jabba was glad that Fooo-kyooo had offered to train Wormy when he was older; he admitted that his master's skill with a lightsaber far surpassed his own. Jabba had never put much stock in the Force, or the use of lightsabers, but since the incident aboard the Death Star, he realized that it was important for Wormy to learn. Their new policy was to avoid the Jedi at all costs, but it was useful to have a basic knowledge of lightsaber fighting nonetheless.

Wormy began to cry hungrily, and Jabba took him from Fooo-kyooo now, tucking him back into his pouch so he could nurse. "You look sad, Fooo-kyooo," he said quietly. "What is troubling you?"

Fooo-kyooo gave him a half-smile, shrugging and looking at the floor. "I've been thinking," he sighed dejectedly. "Let's face it, Jabba: in another fifty years or so I'm going to be too old for this," he admitted, with a wistful glance around _The Galaxy's_ luxurious interior. It was true, though Jabba did not like to think about it: centuries from now, he and Wormy would still be partying every night, and Fooo-kyooo would only be a distant memory.

"The Hutts are the true hope for the Sith," he continued sadly. "Jabba, promise me that you'll keep the Sith tradition alive after I'm gone," Fooo-kyooo begged, his blue eyes earnest, "and that you and Wormy will rule _The Galaxy_ as father and son."

Jabba nodded solemnly; it made him uncomfortable to talk about such things, and he was slightly embarrassed to feel his eyes watering. "I promise, Fooo-kyooo," he agreed quietly. He did not like to think about Fooo-kyooo dying.

"Thank you," Fooo-kyooo replied, nodding gratefully. "Jabba," he continued softly, staring straight ahead. "As much as I have enjoyed all of this, I know that Wormy is the true hope for the future," he said. "It would be unfair of me to make him wait another fifty years before becoming the next Sith apprentice," he admitted reluctantly. "And to be honest, my heart is just not in it any more," he sighed. "Jabba, I've been thinking of resigning, and I would hand my share of the profits over to you and Wormy now, on one condition," he said seriously.

"What is that?" Jabba asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Free the slaves," Fooo-kyooo said quietly.

Jabba sighed heavily, considering it. Fooo-kyooo had always had a strange aversion toward slavery; this was not the first time he had spoken of it. In fact, his master had already passed a mandate abolishing the practice on Tatooine, but without Jabba's support he had not been able to enforce it. Still, Jabba had to admit that some of Fooo-kyooo's unorthodox ideas, such as employing hired workers, had ended up being even more productive; and with Fooo-kyooo's share of the profits, Jabba and Wormy could easily afford all the hired help they needed. As for the other slave owners on Tatooine... _Who cares?_ Jabba realized.

"All right," Jabba agreed, nodding slowly. "I will make sure that your new law is enforced," he promised. "You have been a good friend, Fooo-kyooo," he said sadly. "I shall miss you."

"Thank you, Jabba," Fooo-kyooo said sincerely. "I will miss you as well." Then he sighed, getting up. "Well, I guess this is it then," he said, with a rueful smile, his blue eyes sparkling with sad affection.

"You are leaving so soon?" Jabba asked, surprised.

"Yes," Fooo-kyooo nodded, pulling on his cloak. "Goodbye, Jabba," he said, shaking his hand and patting him gently on the shoulder. "Take good care of Wormy," he smiled fondly. "And may the Force be with you."

"Goodbye, Fooo-kyooo," Jabba said sadly. He did not share his master's devotion to the Force; he had tolerated his beliefs thus far, but under the the leadership of the Hutts, the new Sith regime would worship something far more powerful: Money. "May the Force be with you as well," he said respectfully.

Fooo-kyooo nodded, turning to leave; then as an afterthought he turned back, unclasping the lightsaber from his belt. "For Wormy, when he's older," he said, smiling affectionately and handing it to Jabba. Then, with a regretful sigh - and having lived up to his name - Fu-kyu'p al Putin turned and strode toward the exit of _The Galaxy_, never to be heard from again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Obi-Wan rolled quickly out of bed, instinctively grabbing his lightsaber and activating it before his feet even hit the floor. He wasn't sure if he had been awakened by a knock at the door, or the thunder and lightning that raged in the night sky outside the Jedi Temple; but one thing was certain: he could sense Anakin's presence nearby.

The knock came again, this time followed by Anakin's voice. "Obi-Wan," he said. "Obi-Wan, it's me. I just want to talk to you."

Steadying his racing heartbeat, Obi-Wan glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight; these surprise visits were getting out of hand. Never before had Anakin come to his private quarters, nor at such a late hour. But as Obi-Wan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and searching his feelings, he sensed that oddly enough, Anakin came in peace.

Retracting his lightsaber, he switched on the light and then went to the door, opening it cautiously. "Hello," he said uncertainly, feeling a little foolish to be standing in front of a Sith lord in his pajamas.

"Hi," Anakin said, looking down apologetically. His black cloak was drenched, along with his hair, which hung in dark ringlets, dripping water onto his face. _Or were those tears?_ There were dark circles under his eyes; he looked like he hadn't slept in days. "I'm sorry to bother you," Anakin said uncomfortably. "I just - I didn't know where else to go."

"No, please, come in," Obi-Wan said automatically, concerned. He hadn't heard from Anakin in over two weeks, and was beginning to grow alarmed by the lack of communication. "Would you like some tea?" The question was out before he realized how utterly ridiculous it sounded, given the circumstances. _This is not one of my silly dreams; there is a Sith lord standing on my doorstep._

Anakin let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation. "Sure," he agreed, coming inside. "Tea would be great. Thank you," he added politely, casting a brief apologetic glance at Obi-Wan before looking down again and wiping his boots on the doormat. Then, with a rueful sigh at his drenched cloak, he pulled it off and hung it by the door.

"I haven't heard from you in a while," Obi-Wan said, trying to sound casual as he started some water boiling for the tea. "I was beginning to worry." His mind was racing; this was the closest thing to a conversation they'd had in over a year. "Is everything all right?" he asked, realizing once again how very odd it was to be asking that question of a Sith lord... While making tea for him, in his own apartment, in the middle of the night.

Anakin shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know," he admitted quietly, looking down at the floor.

"Please, sit down," Obi-Wan said, offering him a seat at the kitchen table. "What's going on, Anakin?" he asked gently, sitting next to him. "Has something happened?" _He looks tired... Maybe he's ill?_

Anakin shrugged. "I blew up the Death Star," he sighed unhappily, staring at the table.

"You blew up - Anakin, that's good," Obi-Wan stammered, taken aback. _Qui-Gon was right; I need not have been so worried._ "Why?" he asked, trying to determine the reason for tonight's inexplicable visit.

Anakin shook his head sadly. "The clones," he began, "They all - they died," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I tried to help them but - they were sick, they all died," he repeated, grief-stricken. He closed his eyes, holding his head in his hands.

"Anakin, I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said, instinctively putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about the clones," he said sincerely, trying to console him._He still feels compassion; he is no different than he ever was._ "You did the right thing, Anakin," he assured him gently. "The Death Star should never have been built; I'm tremendously relieved to hear that it's gone."

Anakin nodded morosely; then he sighed, shaking his head. "I left, Obi-Wan," he said quietly. "I left the - " he broke off, squeezing his eyes shut._"Sith,"_ he whispered painfully, ashamed to even speak the word.

"You left?" Obi-Wan asked, tears of joy suddenly springing to his eyes. "Anakin, that's - that's wonderful," he stammered, suddenly hugging him. _Yoda said it was not possible..._ "I'm so proud of you," he cried happily, smiling in disbelief at his former padawan.

Anakin laughed quietly. "I'm sure you are," he said ruefully, looking down. "Obi-Wan, I'm sorry. For everything. I've - " he shook his head, sighing sadly. "There just aren't any words to apologize for what I've done," he said, with deep regret. "Anyway, I just came to tell you that, and to..." he shrugged. "To turn myself in," he finished quietly.

"Turn yourself in?" Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. "Why, Anakin?" he asked, heartbroken at the thought, yet at the same time incredibly proud of Anakin for wanting to do the right thing.

"There's nothing else left for me," Anakin said softly. "I've destroyed everything I ever cared about, and - " he shook his head, managing a sad laugh, "and then I destroyed everything I hated, and - I'm done now," he sighed. "I'm ready to face my punishment, whatever it is," he said, with stubborn resolve. "I know I deserve death for what I did. I'm not afraid, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan sighed, shaking his head. "No, I don't believe you are," he agreed quietly. "Anakin, do you honestly think that your death would set things right? Do you think it would bring the younglings back?" he asked, frustrated.

Anakin shrugged. "No," he admitted. "But they deserve - _something,_" he said helplessly. Then he hung his head, closing his eyes. "And so does Padme," he whispered bitterly.

_Padme. I had forgotten. He thinks he killed her..._ "Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently, helpless to console him. _I'm sworn to protect her; I can't say anything until I speak with her first._

"It's all right," Anakin said dully, hanging his head. "It doesn't matter; there's nothing else left for me anyway," he whispered sadly. "I just want it to be over."

"What about Mos Eisley, and - Giganticus?" Obi-Wan asked, concerned. "What happened there?"

"I gave it up," Anakin shrugged. "It was empty," he admitted quietly. Then he grinned despite himself. "Giganticus is loving it though. He and Wormy will be ruling _The Galaxy_ for the next thousand years," he laughed. "I wouldn't worry about them."

"Wormy?" Obi-Wan asked, with a puzzled look. The water was boiling; he got up to make the tea.

"Jabba's kid," Anakin explained. "He's the new Sith apprentice. He's three weeks old, about this big," he said, holding up his thumb and forefinger. "Very cute. Not so great with a lightsaber," he grinned mischievously.

"No, I don't imagine he would be," Obi-Wan agreed, blinking with stunned disbelief as he brought over two mugs of tea. "Anakin, that was your plan all along, wasn't it?" he asked quietly, sitting down again. "To destroy the Sith Order."

Anakin nodded, shrugging. "Yeah," he admitted glumly. "I figured it was the least I could do."

"Well I'd say you did a smashing job of it," Obi-Wan agreed. "Although I must say you had me worried for a while there," he admitted, laughing gently and shaking his head. "I was certain you'd gone completely mad."

"Yeah, that makes two of us," Anakin sighed. "Thank you," he added politely, sipping his tea.

"Well it's good to have you back," Obi-Wan said, misty-eyed. "I'm so glad you're here, Anakin. Yoda said - " he broke off. "No one has ever come back from the Dark side before, Anakin," he said quietly. "I am so proud of you."

Anakin hung his head sadly. "I'm not back, Obi-Wan," he said quietly. "I don't belong here any more than I did on the Dark side. Yoda was right: I should never have been trained. Things would have been a lot better if Qui-Gon had never found me," he said bitterly, shaking his head. "Obi-Wan, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm sorry that you had to put up with me for so long. I know it wasn't your choice. But it's over now; I'm turning myself in."

"Anakin, will you stop saying that," Obi-Wan sighed, exasperated. "There's nothing to turn yourself in for. Everything you did was either under the direct order of the Emperor, or beyond the jurisdiction of the Republic. I'm not condoning your actions by any means, but technically you're not in any legal trouble," he said, frustrated. Then he sighed. "And don't apologize to me," he added softly. "I chose to take you as my padawan, and I don't regret my decision. Those were the best years of my life, Anakin," he said gently.

Anakin blinked, surprised and concerned. "What about... What about Padme?" he asked, his voice breaking painfully. "And the Death Star, and the clones?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "The Senate doesn't know about the Death Star, or the clones," he admitted quietly. "And as for Padme," he continued with reluctance, "You were officially pardoned by the Emperor, Anakin. I thought you knew that," he finished softly. He wanted desperately to reassure Anakin that Padme was alive and well; but he was sworn to protect her, and he realized sadly that he must speak with her first.

"It doesn't make it right though," Anakin said bitterly, hanging his head. "Obi-Wan, I didn't mean to - " he broke off, choking back tears. "You checked her pulse, that night," he cried helplessly. "Was she already - ?"

"No," Obi-Wan said gently. "She was alive at that point, and I did not believe she was in danger either," he assured him truthfully. "Anakin, I'm sorry, for everything that went wrong that night," he apologized. "And for what I did to you," he cried, heartbroken. "I'm so sorry, Anakin." _You were my best friend in the entire galaxy and I hurt you..._

"That wasn't your fault, Obi-Wan," Anakin said softly. "It's all right; I deserved it," he shrugged. "Anyway, I'm OK, it's not so bad," he reassured him, casually flexing his left hand, while Obi-Wan desperately fought against tears. "It doesn't matter," Anakin sighed. "I just... I don't know what to do now, or where I'll go," he admitted dejectedly.

"We'll figure that out in time, Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "The important thing is that you're here now, and you're all right, and - " Obi-Wan felt his eyes watering. "You're the closest thing I have to family, Anakin, and I love you," he finished softly.

"I love you too," Anakin said tearfully, with a little embarrassed laugh. It was not the first time they had spoken those words, but it was not the Jedi way to be overly emotional, and they both felt slightly ridiculous. Obi-Wan held him for a moment, patting his back gently and stroking his hair; then they both laughed awkwardly, letting go of each other.

"Come on," Obi-Wan said cheerfully, his eyes twinkling with affection as he got up from the table. "Let's find you a place for the night. I believe your old room is still available," he offered.

Anakin nodded gratefully, getting up. "Thank you, Obi-Wan," he said softly, looking down at the floor. "You are the best friend anyone ever had."

Obi-Wan thought that title should probably go to someone who had _not_ hacked off three of his limbs and left him to burn to death; but he simply nodded, grateful that by some miracle things seemed to be all right again. "It's good to have you back, Anakin," he smiled tenderly, patting him on the back and accompanying him out to the hallway. "Let's get you settled into your room."

A half hour later, as he fell back to sleep in his bed, Obi-Wan smiled blissfully to himself, a warmth filling his heart that he had not felt in over a year. He did not know exactly what the future would hold for Anakin; much of that would be determined by Yoda, and Padme. But for the first time, Obi-Wan felt that there was hope.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

It was a beautiful summer day on Alderaan, and Padme was working in the garden. Luke and Leia were with their adoptive parents at the moment; Padme had come to accept her role as a servant in their household, and had found that gardening brought her a sense of peace and tranquility that helped to push aside her homesickness and other memories that were still too painful.

Hearing soft footsteps approaching, she looked up to see a familiar brown-robed figure. "Obi-Wan," she exclaimed, surprised and delighted to see him. "What are you doing here? It's good to see you," she added, smiling warmly as she greeted him.

"It's good to see you as well," Obi-Wan said, his blue eyes twinkling. "I was hoping I might have a word with you," he said politely.

"Of course," Padme said. "Is everything all right?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"Yes," Obi-Wan assured her, admiring the flowers as they walked along the flagstone pathway through the garden. "Actually, I have some very good news, Padme: it's safe for you to come out of hiding now," he said gently. "You can go home to your family on Naboo, along with the children; I've already spoken to the Organas about it."

_Home?_ Padme stared at him in disbelief, tears of joy filling her eyes. "Obi-Wan, are you sure?" she asked, not daring to believe him. "What about - What about Darth Putin?"

"He is no longer a danger," Obi-Wan confirmed. "He has left the Sith Order, and Giganticus never had any interest in your children to begin with," he reassured her.

"He left?" Padme asked, puzzled. She had never heard of a Sith lord simply retiring; then again, this Darth Putin had always seemed a bit eccentric... "Where did he go?" she asked Obi-Wan nervously. She'd heard rumors that Putin was an escaped mental patient; in a way she almost felt safer knowing he was on Tatooine, than wondering where else in the galaxy he might be.

"Well that's what I came here to talk to you about," Obi-Wan admitted reluctantly. "Padme, I haven't been entirely honest with you, about a number of things; I hope that you can forgive me," he began apologetically. "In retrospect I realize I should have told you the truth from the start, but you've been through so much this past year; I didn't want to worry you," he explained gently.

Padme nodded. It was true; dealing with her grief over Anakin's betrayal and ultimate death had been incredibly painful, and if Obi-Wan was protecting her from something, he must have had his reasons. "What is it?" she asked softly, fearing his answer.

"It's about Anakin," Obi-Wan admitted gently, and Padme felt her eyes well over with tears. She nodded, indicating for him to go on. "Padme," he continued uncertainly. "The TIE fighter accident..."

"I know," Padme blurted out tearfully, biting her lip. _I've always known._

"You do?" Obi-Wan asked, startled.

Padme nodded. "I guessed," she admitted reluctantly. "Ani would never - " she broke off, squeezing her eyes shut. _He would never have crashed like that. He was murdered. Palpatine used him to get what he wanted and then threw him away like he was nothing._

Obi-Wan nodded. "I should have known," he said quietly. Then he managed a rueful grin. "They say great minds think alike; you weren't the only one to fake your death for the Emperor's benefit," he laughed softly, shaking his head.

_What?_ Padme looked up at him, suddenly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan explained. "The TIE fighter crash was a diversion; he got away... Padme! Padme, are you all right?"

Padme nodded; but the world was spinning too fast, and she was trembling with shock. Then Obi-Wan's arms were around her, helping her to a nearby bench. "You didn't know," Obi-Wan said gently, sitting down beside her.

"No," Padme whispered weakly, still shaking. "What happened?"

"It's a very long story, and I will tell you everything," Obi-Wan promised, "But Anakin's alive, Padme," he said gently, tears of happiness glistening in his eyes. "He's all right; he's given up the Dark side."

"He's alive?" Padme cried, unable to stop the tears. _Ani..._ "Is he all right?" she asked desperately. _Was he hurt in the crash... Will he always have to wear the mask... Does he still love me..._

"Yes, he's all right," Obi-Wan assured her gently. "He doesn't know about you though; that's what I needed to talk to you about," he continued. "Padme, he thinks he killed you. He feels terrible. I have to tell him the truth," Obi-Wan pleaded softly.

Padme nodded. "Of course," she agreed, trusting Obi-Wan's judgment; but something else was troubling her. "Obi-Wan, you said that it was not possible to come back from the Dark side," she said cautiously.

Obi-Wan smiled wistfully. "I did not think it was," he agreed. "Anakin is the first to have ever done it."

Padme smiled proudly, tears in her eyes. "I knew there was still good in him," she cried softly, hardly daring to believe it. "I want to see him," she said with longing; then she hung her head sadly. "Does he still have to wear the mask?" she asked fearfully. _I will be brave. I will see him, no matter how bad it is._

"No," Obi-Wan said, "He's well again, Padme. He's breathing on his own; has been for months," he assured her gently.

Padme felt a wave of relief wash over her. _He doesn't wear the mask any more. He's feeling better..._ She knew there would be scars, and that he had been grievously injured; but she was grateful beyond words to learn that he was able to breathe on his own again. "Thank you, Obi-Wan," she cried happily. Then she realized the implications of what he was saying.

"Is he to become a Jedi again?" she asked, hopeful but guarded at the same time. _I want what's best for him,_ she told herself. _Even if it means I can't see him._

"Yes," Obi-Wan nodded, smiling proudly, "He took his vows yesterday. Although I think he was a bit confused by them," he laughed. "They've changed somewhat since the last time he took them." Padme gave him an inquisitive look, and he went on. "Times have changed, Padme; for better or worse," he said quietly. "And if the Jedi are to survive, we must change along with them. Even Yoda agrees on that point," he sighed.

"I don't know how you feel about it, or Anakin for that matter, but one thing we have learned from this situation is that humans - even Jedi humans - are simply incapable of relinquishing attachments," he admitted regretfully. "The Jedi Code was written centuries ago, before humans were ever involved in the Order. And we have adhered to it as best we could, but," Obi-Wan sighed. "You cannot ask human beings not to love," he admitted softly.

"We realize now that Anakin truly was the Chosen One," he continued. "The one who would bring balance to the Force. And it has come true: he defeated the Emperor, and destroyed the Sith. But we failed him, Padme," Obi-Wan said regretfully. "We did not heed the warning signs until it was too late, and we have paid a high price for our failure," he said quietly. "Perhaps if we had trusted in him, as Qui-Gon did, instead of stubbornly insisting that he conform to our ways, we could have prevented so much tragedy," he admitted sadly.

"But we have learned our lesson now. The Jedi Code was too rigid and outdated; it was created millennia ago by an alien species who had no need for family, or personal attachments. Times have changed, and the Jedi are now - exactly two-thirds human," he laughed sadly, "And even Yoda agrees that the Code must change. The Jedi are now allowed to marry," he informed her quietly. "And younglings will not be completely separated from their families," he added softly.

Padme nodded. It was a bit overwhelming; in theory she was glad to know that Anakin would be allowed to marry, but suddenly she wasn't so sure if that's what she wanted. _What if he has changed?_ He had been through so much; he was no longer the impetuous boy she had married. But she smiled proudly, realizing what Obi-Wan had said about him. "He truly was the Chosen One?" she asked. Then she looked up at him, puzzled. "I thought Darth Putin killed Sidious," she said, confused.

Obi-Wan laughed ruefully, shaking his head. "He did," he said, his blue eyes twinkling with humor. Padme looked at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying; then the realization began to sink in.

"No," she whispered, blinking in disbelief and trying not to laugh at the same time. _Darth Putin just retired... Anakin just came back from the Dark side..._ "No way." _Everyone says Putin was insane..._ And come to think of it, she had heard accounts that his face was grotesquely scarred beneath the grey hood... "He's been - He's been with Jabba all this time?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan nodded. "Padme, he set out to destroy the Sith, and he's done it. Darth Giganticus is the new Sith master, and his son Wormy is the apprentice," he laughed softly, shaking his head. "That could not have been accomplished had Anakin not turned to the Dark side," he admitted quietly. "But the Jedi can now rebuild in relative safety for the next thousand years or so."

Padme shook her head, laughing in disbelief. "Ani did all that? I heard - I heard Putin was insane," she asked worriedly.

Obi-Wan laughed. "No doubt," he agreed cheerfully. "But no more so than he ever was," he reassured her. "Anakin's back, Padme, and he's just the same as he always was... More or less," he admitted softly, hanging his head with regret.

Padme nodded. She knew that some things could not be undone, and Anakin would bear the scars of his betrayal for the rest of his life; but she loved him dearly nonetheless. "I want to see him," she cried happily, excited and nervous all at the same time. "He's back on Coruscant?" she asked hopefully.

"No," Obi-Wan said ruefully, "I tried to make him stay, but he insisted on coming along. I told him I was going on an incredibly boring political assignment, but unfortunately he saw right through that," Obi-Wan sighed, with an affectionate grin. "He's certain we're on our way to some kind of exciting and dangerous adventure," he laughed. "But I told him to wait on the ship, and hopefully he's stayed put; he seemed grateful to not have to see Senator Organa just yet," he explained.

"I'll talk to him now," Obi-Wan said, getting up. "I haven't told him about any of this, Padme; I don't know how he will take it, or if he's ready to see you just yet, but I will let you know in a few minutes," Obi-Wan promised. "And if I'm not back within half an hour, that means he's probably killed me for lying to him," he added, his blue eyes twinkling good-naturedly.

Padme laughed, thanking him; then Obi-Wan left to talk to Anakin. She waited in the garden, her heart fluttering nervously. What would he look like? She knew the scars would be bad; Obi-Wan had been reluctant to speak of it, but had finally admitted that Anakin had been horribly burned, perhaps beyond recognition. She was afraid to see him; afraid that she would cry, and hurt him even more. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and summoned her courage. _I will be brave. I will not let him see my grief. He has been through enough, and I will not make this harder for him._

Then, smiling, she thought of the children. _They will know their father. We can go home to Naboo, and be a family again._ Tears of joy sprang to her eyes as she envisioned a happy future with Anakin and their children. _I don't care how bad he looks,_ she realized, though she still knew it would break her heart to see him. _I love him,_ she smiled wistfully, letting the tears fall. _I'm so proud of what he's done. I will give him a big hug, and kiss his scars, and we will make it work. I just want him back..._

She heard footsteps approaching, and quickly composed herself. Obi-Wan had barely been gone five minutes; whatever he had said to Anakin, it had not been much of a conversation. _He doesn't want to see me,_ she realized, heartbroken. But they were not Obi-Wan's soft, graceful padding footsteps that she heard; these were far more familiar, accompanied by a faint whirring sound that no one else seemed to notice, but which she found endearing...

The footsteps stopped, and she felt the warmth of his presence filling her heart. "Padme," came a familiar voice, soft and loving, and rough with emotion. Smiling tenderly, she attempted to blink away the tears that were welling in her eyes; but failing hopelessly in that endeavor, she turned around to face her husband.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Padme wept bitterly, her throat searing with pain as she hung her head and stared down at the flagstones through tear-blinded eyes. She had meant to be strong for Anakin. She had meant to smile, to embrace him, to tell him she loved him and that everything would be all right; but she had failed. Instead, she had turned into a trembling, sobbing mess, unable to even look at him.

But then his arms were around her, and he was holding her close, stroking her hair and kissing her on the forehead. "Padme," he said again, his voice so soft and loving. "Padme, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he cried. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

Padme nodded, but she was still trembling in shock, unable to speak. _I'm all right, Ani,_ she wanted to say. But all she could make was this pathetic, choking, hiccupping sound. She was vaguely aware of him leading her toward the bench, and then she was sitting beside him with his arms around her, resting her head against his chest as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"Shhh," Ani whispered softly, stroking her back gently as he held her. "I'm sorry, Padme," he said again. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me," he cried desperately. Padme nodded, hugging him tight; there was nothing to forgive. For the first time in more than a year she felt safe and warm in his arms, and as she lay her head against his chest she cried all over again, just to feel the natural rise and fall of his breathing, and listen to the soft thump of his heartbeat. _Obi-Wan was right,_ she smiled, her eyes welling over with tears of relief. _He is well again._ Closing her eyes, she rested peacefully in his arms as he gently stroked her shoulder and kissed her tenderly on the top of her head.

Finally her tears were spent, and she worked up the courage to look at him. She knew the scars would be terrible, and that he probably didn't have any hair; but she would not flinch. She would not hurt Ani by looking frightened or shocked by his appearance. Opening her eyes, she summoned her courage... And stared in horror.

His black tunic was soaked with her tears, but there was something else there, slimy and viscous... "Oh no," she choked sadly, trying to wipe it off with her sleeve. "I snotted on you."

And thus Padme Amidala, former Queen of Naboo and Senator of the Galactic Republic, upon seeing her beloved husband for the first time in more than a year, chose _I snotted on you_ as her first words to him.

"Oh, great," Anakin said, disgusted. "You're worse than Jabba. That's it, I'm getting a divorce." He shoved her away playfully, and she giggled; then she looked down shyly, still not daring to look at him.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, but then the giggles came back; she couldn't stop them.

"Yeah, you look sorry," Anakin laughed gently, pushing a loose tendril of hair out of her face. "Seriously, Padme, if I wanted this type of thing I could have stayed on Tatooine." But he kissed her tenderly on the temple, running his fingers through her silky hair.

Padme smiled blissfully, laying her head against his shoulder as he stroked her hair; then she became aware of an odd tugging sensation and realized what he was doing. "Anakin Skywalker, cut that out!" she demanded crossly, smacking him.

"Hahaha, I can't help it," he laughed, letting go of the crazy twisted bun he had made. Anakin always loved trying to invent new styles for her hair, but he was terrible at it; he had no appreciation whatsoever for the fine art of Naboo hair design, and came up with the most ridiculous fashions imaginable. "There," he said gently, combing it out again with his fingers, "all back to normal." Padme felt it to make sure he wasn't lying; then she hugged him happily.

"I've missed you, Ani," she said softly, snuggling up against him.

"I've missed you too, Padme," he said lovingly, holding her in his arms. "Padme, I'm so sorry," he apologized again. "I'm sorry for - for everything," he said miserably.

"No," Padme said gently, stopping him. "Shhh." She closed her eyes, turning to face him for the first time; she had still not dared to look at him, but she knew she must. _I will be strong._ Preparing herself for the worst, she opened her eyes.

She had vowed not to cry; but once again she failed. Tears of joyful relief sprang to her eyes and she smiled blissfully, gazing at him. There was a faded scar on his left cheek, and she kissed it tenderly; but inexplicably, aside from that, he looked the same as he always had. His face was tanned from the Tatooine suns, and his hair had grown back long and wavy; there were a few little scars here and there, and he looked a little bit older, less boyish, but otherwise he was unchanged. Despite everything she had heard, he was still her beautiful Ani, just as she remembered him.

He was looking at her now, his deep blue eyes filled with apology and regret. _They are darker than Luke's,_ she realized tearfully. _I had almost forgotten._ "Ani," she smiled, resting her forehead against his and stroking his soft curly hair as she gazed deeply into his eyes. "I've missed you so much," she cried wistfully. Then she kissed him on the lips, so soft and tender...

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" squealed a little voice, followed by childish laughter and the sound of tiny feet running along the flagstones. Anakin looked out across the garden, startled by the interruption, and Padme smiled happily, holding his hand. His graceful, slender fingers wrapped mechanically around hers, and she drew away suddenly, startled. Something was wrong; they looked and felt so real, but there was no warmth to his touch, and her heart ached for him as she remembered.

"Sorry," she whispered softly, taking his hand again and squeezing it reassuringly as Luke ran towards them, giggling excitedly. A moment later she saw what he was running from, as Obi-Wan emerged from around the corner, holding Leia in one arm.

"Luke! Come back," he pleaded helplessly, chasing after him. Then he saw Padme and Anakin, and stopped. "Oh," he apologized awkwardly. "Sorry, I - However do you keep these two in the same room? Or on the same planet for that matter?" he asked with good-natured exasperation, coming over to collect Luke. "Come on," he said cheerfully, picking him up in his free arm, "We're not playing in the garden just now," he chided him gently. "Sorry," he apologized again, turning back toward the Organa mansion.

"No, wait," Padme said, smiling, and Obi-Wan brought the children over to them. Anakin was grinning at them good-naturedly.

"Wow, I heard Organa adop- had twins," he said, quickly correcting himself, as if unsure of how much the toddlers understood. "They're cute," he smiled, delighted, as Obi-Wan plopped Luke onto his lap. He held Luke's little hands, bouncing him playfully, and grinned at Padme, who was holding Leia. Then his grin turned to a quizzical look as he noticed the glance she and Obi-Wan had been sharing.

"I didn't get a chance to tell him," Obi-Wan explained to Padme apologetically. "He took off running before I got to that part," he smiled ruefully, shaking his head.

Anakin's eyes were big as saucers now. "No," he whispered, blinking in shock. Then slowly a big happy grin crossed his face, and he gazed in wonder at his son. "Two of them?" he asked in delighted disbelief, looking over at Leia again. "Padme!" he smiled ecstatically, putting an arm around his wife and kissing her on the head. "They're beautiful," he cried tearfully.

Leia looked up at him quietly from Padme's lap. She'd had her fingers in her mouth, but reached up toward him now, pointing at the scar on his cheek and touching it curiously with a slimy finger. But Anakin just smiled blissfully, stroking her dark, silky hair and leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. "What are their names?" he asked, enchanted with his daughter.

"This is Leia, and that's Luke," Padme smiled proudly. "Aren't they perfect?" she whispered, cuddling Leia close against her chest. Anakin nodded, agreeing. "It's just about their nap time," she realized, seeing the glazed-over look in Luke's blue eyes as he settled quietly into his father's arms, sucking his thumb.

"I'll take them," Obi-Wan offered gently, bending down as they handed the babies back to him. "And then I'm afraid I must be going," he added to Anakin. "I wasn't lying about the boring political assignment," he grinned ruefully. "I have a Senate matter to attend to in the Auril Sector, but I shall be back tomorrow," he assured him.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," Anakin said sincerely, looking up at him with deep gratitude. Obi-Wan bowed his head with polite formality, though there was a cheerful twinkle in his eyes; then he turned and walked back toward the palace to put the children down for their naps.

Padme smiled blissfully, laying her head against Anakin's shoulder and putting her arms around him again as they sat together on the bench overlooking the garden. "I've missed you, Ani," she said softly, snuggling in the warm safety of his arms. "I'm so glad you're back."

"So am I," he agreed, whispering as he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "I've missed you too, Padme." They sat quietly for several minutes, holding each other; then she looked up to see his blue eyes glistening, and tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, Padme," he cried again sadly, kissing her again and stroking her shoulder gently. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through... I love you Padme," he wept, gathering her close against his chest and laying his cheek on top of her head.

"It's all right, Ani," she said gently, lifting her head and gazing blissfully into his dark blue eyes, with a tender, wistful smile. "I love you too," she cried, her eyes filling with tears of joy as she realized that they could be together now, for the rest of their lives, with no more hiding...

"It's all right," she repeated softly, giving him an encouraging smile, which he returned with a grateful, somewhat apologetic grin, his blue eyes sparkling happily. She kissed him on the cheek, pushing away a stray lock of curly, golden-brown hair and gently brushing away his tears. "I promise," she smiled blissfully, resting her head against his shoulder and snuggling in his arms once again. "Everything's going to be all right."

**The End**


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